


Timeshare

by herbailiwick



Series: Timeshare [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Character Death, Lucifer as Sam | Sam as Lucifer, M/M, Mooseley, Non-Graphic Violence, Redemption, Sexual Harassment, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:24:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 67,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Season 9 AU Endverse Mooseley chapter fic including the prompts of a 30 Day OTP Challenge. </p><p>As per their agreement, Lucifer and Sam strategically share Sam's body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cool Water ("holding hands")

"Can I get you anything?" There it was again, that crinkle of the brow, that heaviness of the gaze, so new and yet so old. Crowley had been concerned for Sam since they'd faced Brady, after all. The question was new, though it was quickly getting old to Sam, who didn't usually like being fussed over.

Sam laughed, the sound a little rusty. He sat up a little more and reached for the glass of water, which Crowley quickly pushed toward him, nearly knocking it off the end table in his excitement to be of some help to Sam.

Crowley watched with intention as Sam took a drink. He bit his lip, quiet. Too quiet. His eyes and their heaviness spoke to Sam despite the silence as he went from what looked like gratefulness that Sam had liked his offer of a glass of water to the warning signs of heavy guilt. Sam had seen those often enough in the mirror.

"This isn't your fault, you know," Sam said with a slight grin as he eyed the bedspread. Touching, Crowley's concern. Sweet.

"Well, maybe just a little," Crowley said. 

"I made my choices," Sam shrugged, looking back at Crowley. "When we started, you would have done anything to stop me, you know?" Sam rolled up his right sleeve, exposing the healing bite mark. "You did, actually."

"Well, then I should have done more." Voice soft. He treaded lightly. Sam couldn't wait until Crowley was more comfortable with the idea of treading on people again. For a treader, he'd at least usually been fair.

Sam tilted his head slightly. "You did plenty," he assured. Crowley's softness was so strange to see in such a visible way. He wasn't quite sure how to reassure the man, except, maybe....

"I tried to kill Bobby, you know," Sam muttered. 

"What?!" 

Sam laughed, a weakness behind the sound still. He coughed slightly, smiled. "When I didn't want my soul back in me. An angel told me scarring my vessel would keep it out, and to do that, I was supposed to kill my father. Or, the closest approximation, anyway. So, I went after him. I even pulled an axe!"

"You didn't!" Crowley's wide-eyed look made Sam grin. That blinking innocence was too good.

"Oh, I did," Sam smirked. "He put up a really good fight, too. Even so, if Dean hadn't shown up, I'd have taken him out, but good."

"You were desperate not to feel all that pain," said Crowley, a slight sparkle in his eye Sam hadn't seen often since the injections. There was no question in the statement.

"Exactly." Sam reached out for Crowley's hand, grasping it in the privacy of his own bedroom. "So, I get it. Okay? I do."

Crowley glanced down at their joined hands. "Oh, Moose," he said with a quiet ache, his eyes sparkling just a tad bit more. 

"Don't cry," Sam joked in a cool tone. "Don't do it."

"I'm not!" Crowley protested. He gave Sam's large hand a squeeze, let his other hand come up and join his first, held Sam's hand between them. "You need to shut up," he protested, glancing up with blurring eyes to see Sam smirking at him. "I'm not crying."

Sam took another sip from the glass in his hand. "You wanna let go of my hand now?" he teased.

Crowley blinked for a moment before sliding his hands away because, well, no. No, he didn't. He cleared his throat.

Sam tilted his head slightly at the reaction.

"You need to take it easy, Moose," Crowley said, getting to his feet. "I'm not asking."

"Like I have a choice," Sam laughed.

Crowley thought about Dean's overprotectiveness. Sam had a point.

Crowley closed the door behind himself, then sighed audibly. "Take care of yourself," he murmured, glad Sam couldn't hear him anymore. He slinked away from Sam's door with what he could swear was Sam's warmth still hanging onto his fingertips, with what he could swear was Sam's brand of hope still hanging onto his heart.

The hope suggested that Sam might just recover in full, if Crowley was good, if he was very good. And it suggested being good might not be so impossible anymore.

He'd get to prove his goodness soon enough, and Sam would get to be healed.


	2. Night Owls Nesting ("cuddling somewhere")

Crowley somehow managed to sweet talk his way into Sam's bed. It was more a thing of luck than a thing of skill, and the bed situation was not, at first, a sexual one. No, it was just a pathetic desire not to be all alone in the world, to be near Sam while he could, because Sam thought he was dying and Crowley agreed. 

Dean didn't want Crowley anywhere near Sam, almost-cured or not. He threw curses, threats, suspicions, and aspersions, and it was almost like the good old days, except for the moose in the room with the big, tired eyes and the fevers and chills in turns that made Dean and Crowley fight over the thermometer. If Crowley'd felt bolder, he'd have tried fighting over bathing privileges as well, though Sam didn't really seem like he had much interest in much of anything except the fallen angel situation. The poor sap had always had a secret soft spot for angels, like maybe his faith could will them into a state of non-dickishness.

Sam didn't seem to mind Crowley's company, a fact all three of them noticed but refused to comment on. If Crowley hadn't offered so genuinely and shamelessly, Dean really would have been willing and able to rest with Sam in case Sam needed his help during the night. But when Crowley suggested it, something in Dean seemed just a _little_ relieved that he didn't always have to be the one to take care of Sammy.

Not a month after the desperate bed-sharing had started, things changed dramatically. Sam found a cure, Crowley found himself face to face with the man he'd helped return to prison, and Dean found himself running, Cas by his side.

***

Soon, there was nothing better than the moment the sun finally disappeared below the horizon. The nights were theirs. It was part of the bargain. 

Crowley spent the first two weeks of work living in a state of utter fear during the day. He carried out instructions, he did his best to stutter out advice, he mourned the loss of his Sam's set of facial expressions. 

He became certain that every mistake in calculation, every casualty of the fighting that couldn't be prevented, every second he wasn't quick enough when following instructions would be his last. And that wasn't even the worst part, because Crowley was tearful and he was bumbling, was confused by himself and by his reality, which all left an awful lot to make fun of, and when the Devil laughed, the demon world laughed with him.

Not many demons had sympathized with their old king when he'd still worn his crown, but the crown had fallen and shattered to the sounds of cheering. He'd always been a nuisance to some, a bore, but sympathizing with the humans was the last, disturbing straw. Those who spoke out in his favor were puffed out like the flame on a birthday cake's candle by the archangel in the white suit. So no one spoke up anymore.

Crowley would've said working under the creature possessing his Sam was like Hell. But part of the deal—even though it didn't have to be negotiated, even though sometimes Crowley started to wish in the time of those two weeks that there'd been no deal and he'd just been snapped away into a tomato soup oblivion without a second thought—was that the nights were theirs.

The first night Sam was given his body back, which was also the first day Lucifer had taken it from him, Sam sort of collapsed onto the metal folding chair in the office and blinked at Crowley from across the desk. The bags under his eyes, there when Lucifer had come, were gone. He looked...stronger somehow. Crowley had heard that being worn by an angel was like being strapped to a comet; that was what Sam had told him, anyway. But Sam looked _good_.

"Sorry," Sam said, sort of hunching a little. "Sorry, Crowley."

"It's okay, Moose." 

"I scared you. Er. _He_ scared you."

"He scared you more," Crowley pointed out, voice soft. "Here, can I get you anything?"

"You've been getting me stuff all day." Sam wrinkled his nose at the coffee-stained mug sitting at the corner of the desk. "Can I...get _you_...a-anything?"

Alright, maybe Sam didn't look so good after all. More like haunted. "No," Crowley finally said. "Let's just get to bed."

"No," Sam said suddenly. 

Crowley blinked. "What do you mean, no?" he demanded. They'd never missed a night.

"Crowley," Sam paused, then looked away. "I don't trust him. I can't. And you shouldn't either. So, lock your door. For me. Please? And for you."

Protest beat at the back of Crowley's throat, but he kept it there. He slowly nodded, then went off to spend the night alone, tossing and turning on a bed too small for two people when one of them was Sam, but suddenly too large without him, hollow like Crowley felt inside if his mind strayed to the awful archangel who'd put him through his paces for the first of what would be way too many times.

Sam stayed up all night too, waiting for a drop-in that never occurred. He counted the dots on the ceiling until they blurred, read a month-old paper until it did the same, and considered cuffing himself to his bed before remembering Lucifer couldn't be held back by a set of glorified bracelets.

It wasn't until night fell on the third day and Crowley pulled Sam's frame against him, holding him, not wanting to let go, that Sam actually understood.

"This is what you need," Sam said, voice filled with awe.

Crowley was shaking in his arms. He huffed out little breaths, little desperate sounds of fear, unable to find the words to express himself.

"This is what you need, isn't it?" Sam's voice came, cracking. He leaned forward slightly, curling himself around Crowley. "You're not...?" his lip trembled, and he swelled with gratitude. "You're not disgusted?"

"I need you," said Crowley. He buried his face in Sam, muffling it. "I need you, Sam. I don't care."

***

They started spending their nights in the same bed again, holding each other, staying up as long as Crowley could manage after being with Lucifer all day. And Sam needed rest too. 

Being able to feel each other's warmth, even in the long days of the summer with the short nights and the unbelievable heat and the lack of reliable air-conditioning or even electricity, that was going to get them through their time working with Lucifer. They could feel it, even if they didn't want to talk about it.

Lucifer popped in at times to mess with Crowley, to mess with Sam, but the agreement suited them well enough, as long as they were together. It was enough because it meant someone cared enough to sleep in the same bed, to be close enough to embrace if they cared to (and they usually didn't). It was enough to have their first priority be each other.

Dean wasn't around to hold Sam's hand through everything, and Crowley was a laughingstock, but things almost seemed perfect, lying next to each other in a bed that was too small for them to escape the feeling of oneness, even though it was the end of the world, or it was going to be anyway, and they were helping cause it. 

Sometimes they prayed before bed together, prayed someone would come and help. Because Sam was full of faith and hope and love in ways that had frustrated and impressed Crowley since the day they first met. 

Because Crowley was full of strategy and survival instinct and the knowledge that inside Lucifer's vessel was his Sam.

And because they weren't sure they could trust Lucifer to hold up his end of the bargain without some insurance.


	3. Drain ("gaming/watching a movie")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains **sexual harassment** from Lucifer.

Crowley was surprised to get a day off so soon.

"Well, think about it, Crowley," said Lucifer in his casual way. "We finished our last mission with a lot of success, and I'm not exactly what they'd call a workaholic. By the way, I bought you some of that alcohol you prefer."

Crowley eyed the bottle of Craig on the table. He shuddered to think what could be in there as a "bonus". Numerous poisons and spells came to mind. Maybe day off meant...permanently.

"Thanks," he finally said.

"Don't mention it. You're my new right hand man, right? It's part of the deal. You deserve a break today. In fact, you _need_ one," Lucifer said with a hint of sympathy that made Crowley want to back away.

"Er."

"You were up late last night. Both of you. I can read it in Sam. I know what you two got up to."

Crowley eyed the bottle carefully, unwilling to respond. He swallowed. It had been a good night, but he wondered if Lucifer's feelings toward Sam or his hatred for Crowley would mean one night of passion would be Crowley's death sentence.

Lucifer nudged the bottle of Craig closer to the edge of the table. "I don't bite, Crowley. Not you, anyway."

Bravely reaching past Lucifer for the bottle, Crowley moved toward the glasses and started to measure some out. If it was his last, it was his last.

"Good boy."

***

"Hey, I had someone pick up a DVD for me the other day, remember? And I've been watching it." 

"Um. Good for you?" Crowley said, confused.

Lucifer smiled, content to quietly loom in Crowley's doorway for a moment. "Sam had been trying to work out what you meant by comparing the two of you to Hannah and Marnie from _Girls_."

'"Oh! Well, see," Crowley said, sitting up straighter, "that was my, uh, body, the literary agent, poking through." Crowley swallowed. "I wouldn't really worry about it, if I were you."

Lucifer smiled. "Vessels are funny that way, aren't they? Sometimes wants...blur. Castiel once ate a whole tray of raw meat just to satisfy his vessel's hunger."

Crowley wasn't entirely sure what one said to that. "Against Famine," he finally settled for.

"Right. You know, it's a curious show, _Girls_. It's sexual. It's disgusting."

"It's not for everyone, no. I wouldn't put any stock in the comparison, boss, honest."

Lucifer narrowed his eyes in thought. "You and Sam shower together sometimes. They bathe together sometimes. Is that it?"

"It was a stupid comparison," said Crowley quickly. "More of a big picture thing than a let's-hammer-out-all-the-details thing."

"I feel bad for you, Crowley."

"You do?" Crowley cleared his throat, pushing his book aside without bothering to keep his spot. "Why would you feel bad for me?"

"Because you're pathetic," Lucifer said with an exaggerated pout. "Because you're Hannah, right? You're so quick to roll over, you, the demon who managed to try and run my kingdom while I was away."

Crowley frowned slightly.

"I can't imagine what sort of abuse you'd take. You really are one of my demons, aren't you? And right now, you're completely wrapped up in Sam. You even slept with a demon who looked like him. You _requested_ it." He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

It was true. Trust demons to screw you over time and again. Crowley'd never exactly had much control over many of those working under him when he was the king, not if they hid their disloyalty well enough he never got word. Even knowing that, it hurt to hear he'd been tattled on for his sexual proclivities. Crowley's mind flicked through possible responses, some of which were likely to get him killed, and in the end he let the accusation hang, and let his head hang slightly too. It _was_ , honestly, pathetic. Consensual, if unethical, but pathetic.

Lucifer leaned forward, face suddenly close, too close. Crowley knew very clearly the difference between Sam and someone who just looked like Sam, probably better than anyone but Dean, and Lucifer in Sam's meat suit just wasn't going to cut it.

"I ought to offer you a repeat performance of last night. I bet you'd respond quite favorably. Hm."

***

When Crowley had been left alone at last, when Lucifer's fury had finally passed, Lucifer jumped ship, letting Sam come to the surface.

Sam ran back to their bedroom, knocking at the door. "Crowley!" he exclaimed.

Crowley chuckled, the sound a bit wet. His face was bruising already, but it was worth it in so many ways. "It's okay, Moose," he grinned, wincing slightly at the way the grin pulled at his lip. He looked down at the floor for a moment, and then Sam was there in the room, stroking his cheek, offering an ice pack.

"You've had worse from the man," Crowley pointed out.

Sam glared at the statement. Clearly, he was angry enough about what Lucifer had done, about what he'd threatened to do, that arguing degrees of pain wasn't going to soothe him.

Crowley laughed. "Did you watch with him?"

Sam's shoulders relaxed, and he seemed smaller. "What, the show?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I could see it," he answered. "He wanted me to."

"Well, then you know I'm pathetic," Crowley sighed. "Want some?" He nodded to the Craig he'd opened up again, glass already in need of topping off again.

"No. No, thanks. Uh. I'm sorry." Sam looked down at his hands, at his knuckles. They were perfectly fine, not even a bit sore. The same could not be said for Crowley.

Crowley leaned in to kiss Sam on the cheek.

"You really, um. You slept with a demon who looked like me?" Sam asked carefully after a moment.

"Two," muttered Crowley. "So sue me." 

Sam smiled slightly, looking oddly flattered. He probably was, the weird son of a bitch.

"For what it's worth...I'm sorry. Unethical, to say the least."

Sam brushed it off, after looking as if he suddenly understood that it really was a bit...boundary-crossing. "Hey, wanna go watch _Band of Brothers_? He got that in the mail too."

Raising a brow, Crowley couldn't see any reason not to.

***

Sam kissed at some of the bruises on Crowley's face as they watched, pulling him close and quietly fussing over him. Crowley didn't mind in the slightest.  

"Crowley. You know I wouldn't let him...uh. Right? I wouldn't."

Crowley hummed in agreement. "Right, Moose. I know," he said, but he was lying, plain and simple. Because he didn't know for sure, now. He couldn't be sure after Lucifer had suggested being like a second...whatever Sam and he were, or suggested completing the circuit of Sam-Crowley and Sam-Lucifer connections or whatever the point behind his suggestion had been. Maybe it was just a power thing, to keep them in line.

He certainly didn't want any more of that Craig. Just thinking about it as some sort of favor in hopes of other favors made his gut feel as twisted as his heart had once been. He wished he could savor it, but it was better to go without than to be in Lucifer's sexual debt over _one_ bottle of sunshine.

And Sam was all the sunshine he needed, really.

Actually, sunshine wasn't that great of a thing anymore, was it? Maybe he'd have to get a new saying for that. Nightlight, maybe. Moose was like a big nightlight.

Crowley prodded at the bruise forming on his cheek and rested against Sam as they watched as much as they could before the need for sleep caught up to them.

And when Sam fell asleep first, Crowley poured the rest of the Craig down the sink without thinking about it too hard, the drain giving a mournful little gurgle like it understood, or maybe like it enjoyed the Craig and was mocking him.

All good things must come to an end, thought Crowley. He hoped against hope that that wouldn't apply to the nice balance he'd found with Sam, or at least not anytime soon.


	4. The Night Life ("on a date")

Between Crowley wanting to get out of Lucifer Headquarters before he lost what was left of his marbles and Sam wanting to get the taste of demon blood out of his mouth before he lost what was left in his guts, the two of them decided to drive until they found some place open where they could eat.

Certain businesses had started to run more at night, considering it was when there weren't as many demons and angels and hunters running around. Of course, there was less electricity too, so that still meant things might be hard to find.

"Wow, what a crappy diner," Sam commented.

"And what a ridiculous queue." The line stretched out the door and out onto the sidewalk, but the weather was nice and most people didn't seem too impatient. No one was in much hurry during "normal life" anymore. "Ah well," added Crowley. "Come on."

Crowley and Sam waited about 40 minutes before they got a booth. Sam got the occasional stare from other people waiting at the front because some of them knew what Lucifer looked like. Heck, some people, though not many, knew what _Crowley_ looked like by now.

But when one saw Sam and Crowley without Lucifer around, it was hard to imagine them as the cause of so much destruction, especially when Sam was wearing plaid and not a pretentious white suit. So people sometimes just assumed they weren't who they looked like they were.

In a tiny vinyl-covered booth at a chipped table, Sam sat across from Crowley, quietly grinning into his laminated menu. 

"What's got you so happy?" Crowley asked above the excited chatter of the room.

What had Sam so happy was what had everyone so happy, even if they couldn't name it. "It's just...it's the end of the world and everything, right? But, look," Sam said, glancing around. "There are still diners. There are still people going out to eat."

Crowley couldn't help but smile too, feeling the pull in his cheeks (even the bruised one), giving a little laugh. "I suppose you're right. What'll you have?"

"Pancakes, maybe."

"I'm thinking about eggs, toast, and sausage."

They didn't talk much after that. Mainly they ate, dishes clinking, and sipped at alright coffee and sort of smiled at each other. They mainly tried to soak in the feeling of rightness with their fellow man, the feel of sticky vinyl, the sight of time-worn walls and the low-hanging metal bowl of a light fixture that Sam had bumped his head on twice. 

"So there's something worth living for after all," Crowley said. The air was still cool outside, with a light breeze causing movement no one could fear, and there was a line forming outside the diner again. It was a night for dreaming, a night for daring to live normally by the harsh lighting of a single diner against the darkened sky. It was a night of Fuck You, Lucifer.

"We should see if we can get him to let us go on vacation," Crowley announced.

"To where?" Sam asked as if they weren't talking crazy by even suggesting it.

"Kansas is centralized, sure. I'll give him that. But the beach is the beach. We could move operations for a while."

"You like the beach?" Sam asked.

"Of course I like the beach. Any civilized bugger loves the beach."

"We should talk to him about it," Sam agreed, not caring one way or the other whether they actually did.

"We _could_ ," Crowley said, "if we wanted. I mean, things are going well for him. And Michael hasn't come calling. Yet."

Sam's smile fell. "Yeah. Michael."

Crowley reached for Sam's hand, holding it gently, stroking it with his thumb. "It'll be okay, Sam. We'll do what we can for your brother. At least he's out of the Cage, right?"

"He's probably not getting any rest," Sam sighed.

"You don't know that."

"Michael is...Michael," Sam pointed out.

"Right." Crowley dropped Sam's hand, shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well," he tried, "maybe we'll call Dean again and see if he wants to talk strategy. And don't say there'd be no point, Moose. I see that hope in you. You know him better than that. And he's not gonna end up like future!Dean. He's not. He has knowledge he didn't have then, memories he didn't have."

"What are you talking about? What memories?" Sam tugged Crowley toward the sigil-covered car so they'd be safer from eyes and ears. 

"Friends, a bedroom, more security in himself, right? And Cas is a different Cas too. You'll see." Crowley stood by the passenger side door and waited until Sam unlocked the car.

Sam nodded carefully. "Maybe."

Once inside, Crowley pulled the half-attached mirror down and took a look at his face in the light from the diner. "It's getting better. Even with the added punch from today."

"Sorry about that," Sam sighed. 

"Wasn't you, Moose," Crowley reminded him.

Sam sat in the driver's seat for a moment, contemplative, hand on the key.

"It really wasn't, you know. Or is that not it?"

"That's not it."

"What's going on?"

"There's a meteor shower in a couple hours." Sam's lip twitched up in an almost smile, but it fell again. He glanced over nervously.

Crowley raised a brow. "I know. Remember that spell some of our crew's going to perform tonight?"

"No, I know."

"But you don't want any part of the spell."

"No."

"No, you wouldn't, would you. No, you, Moose, want to sit out in a field somewhere and watch it. Don't you?"

"Well, maybe not field. But...the roof?"

Crowley beamed at Sam so hard his bruise twinged. "You know, I like the sound of that."

Sam sighed in relief.

Two beers, two flashlights, and one blanket with the solid concrete of the headquarters roof under it as they sat and watched, and the building felt less constricting. They'd ordered the lights to be shut off for a while, and they watched, and it was entertaining enough, especially according to End of the World standards. 

Though, Crowley commented, "Its not as pretty as when the angels fell, is it?" 

Sam had a laugh startled right out of him.  "No," Sam admitted. "It's really not."

And they shared a kiss before heading back inside to rest.

They knew that in a few hours Lucifer would wake them up like an overexcited brat on Christmas morning. The End of the World was Lucifer's Christmas morning, and they'd agreed to let him have Christmas every day, for the time being.

And he'd agreed to let them have the night, which was a time for diner dates and stars.


	5. Pucker ("kissing")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains **sexual harassment** and **physical force** from Lucifer.

"People who work their asses off during the day are trying to sleep," said Dean. "What do you nocturnal bastards want?" Sam eyed the phone with relief. It didn't just sound like Dean, it was definitely Dean. Dean was supposedly safe, but Sam had learned not to trust supposedly very much when it came to Dean's safety.

"We just want to talk strategy," Crowley said.

"My strategy is cleaning up _your_ messes. Your horned and pitchforked sugar daddy is running us ragged." Sam winced at the term "sugar daddy". Dean was the king of disgusting and accurate summaries.

"I...I know," said Sam softly.

"Do you? What's the point in working with you anyway? Lucifer's just gonna figure it out. Hell, how do you know he's not listening to you right now?"

"I...don't."

"Is that Sam?" Cas's voice asked.

Dean gave a hollow laugh. "Good one, Cas. No, not really."

Sam sighed, and Crowley watched his expression shutter against a sea of dying hope. He curled an arm around Sam, rested his head against Sam's shoulder.

"Dean is gone," Cas informed after a moment. 

"He drinking?" asked Sam.

"Yes. Sam, you made a deal with Lucifer, didn't you?"

"Of course we did," said Crowley. "Who do you take us for?" Sam smirked at that, particularly at the use of "we". He could feel how tired Crowley was. It had been a long day, and Lucifer had been in a poor mood.

"He's not allowed to kill directly, right?" Cas asked. 

"Hm, not half bad, for a man without his mojo. No, he's not." 

"And we're protected?"

"Right," Sam said. "And me. I was dying when he came to me, you know, and," Sam swallowed, "that would have been easy, but I thought...."

"That Dean would prefer you alive," Cas said with the air of understanding he could usually only muster if he'd been in a similar situation himself.

"Oh, Moose," Crowley sighed, reaching down and pinching at Sam's side where his shirt rode up. 

Sam made a noise of protest, but only tugged Crowley closer against him. "I know. It was...short-sighted, I guess, in some ways, but Lucifer's less...vengeful now. And he doesn't want to fight Michael, and we don't want that either."

"Well, I'll keep sending people out to research what to do about Lucifer. What to do about _everything_."

"Thanks, Cas. Thank you."

"Yeah, Cas," Crowley said. "Thanks."

***

"You did the right thing, you know." Sam raised a dubious eyebrow. "It's like making a plea bargain, Moose. It's like coming quietly. Lucifer's less...Lucifer when you comply." He swallowed and looked away from Sam, trying not to remember torture he'd suffered at Lucifer's hands.

Sam looked away as well, trying to do the same.

"I think it's best for all of us...if we just...comply," Crowley sighed.

Sam narrowed his eyes at Crowley, who still wasn't meeting his gaze. "What does that mean?"

"It means what it means, you knobhead."

Sam's lip twitched up. "Well...we also don't have to pander to him, okay? He already has half our lives to fuck around with."

"He's got us right between those celestial fingertips." Crowley raised his hand, stroking his own fingertips over Sam's cheek.

Dean was still pissy, Cas was still helpful. Sam wondered how Adam was doing, briefly, as he pulled Crowley onto the bed and started fiddling with the buttons of his shirt.

He kissed a line down Crowley's warm chest, nuzzling, but was surprised when Crowley's fingers curled into his hair and tugged, guiding him up.

"Kiss me some more," Crowley murmured, his gaze as soft as his voice. "I love it when you kiss me."

Sam giggled quietly, ran his eyes over the line of Crowley's lips, over the line of his jaw. He'd need to bite that jaw. 

That's where he started, teeth digging in to the sound of gasps, but soon Crowley said, "Moose," in a chiding tone, and Sam swept in to lick and nibble at Crowley's lip, to brush their lips together until Crowley raised his head from the bed and claimed in turn. Sam let out a huff of laughter that Crowley accepted, and Crowley grasped Sam by the shoulders to keep him there above him, to know he wasn't alone, would never be alone, even with Lucifer sharing the meat suit of the man he adored.

Sam was sweet and silently desperate, reserved by nurture, by nature a wild thing that tried to keep himself in check. When Sam grew still above Crowley, he found it strange, like a new side of a Sam, a new surprise, because Sam had layers. Sam's kiss grew more forceful, more questing, but still so still, like he was taking a minute to explore, almost clinical. It was Crowley's turn to chuckle, but there was no chuckle in return. 

Sam pulled back, cupping the side of Crowley’s face with a large hand as he did. The hand stroked with its long fingers, and then it slid down to cup Crowley’s jaw. And it squeezed. The pressure increased, pulling a noise of protest and a wide gaze out of Crowley as he stared up, his cheeks and lips pushed out slightly, a twinge of pain in the very bone.

"Sam?"

Something flickered through those eyes, a dark kind of glee, and Crowley exhaled the huff of breath of the cornered man meeting his end and trying to accept it. 

The other large hand pressed against Crowley's shoulder with menace and too much strength, grinding it against the mattress, pinning him down. "Hey there, Crowley."

Crowley tried to make sure to breathe, to pour as much calm as he could out over the rising inevitability of his end. The grip loosened enough that he could reply. "Evening—or, should I say morning—your excellency." He'd been mostly talk before his transformation, but he was nearly _all_ talk now, a fact which had him shaking underneath his Sam's other half.

Lucifer tilted his head at Crowley, so still, so patient.

"If you'd like, I could get you a coffee. Seems a little early to start the day, but, what the hell." He tried for a smile. Lucifer's stillness had him frowning again in a matter of seconds.

"Hey, uh, boss," Crowley said carefully. "Assuming you're about to kill me anyway, how come there was no light show when you dropped in? Isn't that what you get for the price of admission?"

Lucifer did smile then. He released Crowley's jaw to rub his thumb over the vulnerable points in Crowley's accessible neck. "I'm an angel. I can show you what I want to show you. I can refuse to show you what I don't want to you to see."

Thumb digging in slightly, smirking as he felt Crowley gasp, he leaned down and gave a condescending peck on the forehead.

The flash of light happened this time as Lucifer left Sam, and Crowley squirmed and looked away from the intensity of his nightlight, his shoulder and neck still held by the dumb meat suit he’d somehow saddled himself to romantically. When Sam was Sam again, he collapsed on top of Crowley.

"Oh...oh my god," Sam said, rolling off onto his back, staring at the dots on the ceiling with intention. "That was. _Not_ in the contract," he spat.

"No," Crowley muttered.

"And I'll." Sam sighed. "I'll understand if you need...me to go to my room. I get it."

Crowley took in a deep breath and shifted onto his side, staring at his Moose. "No skin off my nose," he said, voice shuddery with breath.

Sam's arm came up to cover his eyes and he laughed one of his desperate laughs, and Crowley reached up, gently, and moved the arm aside. "I knew what I signed up for," Crowley said, though he hadn't known, not really. "If you want to put that arm to better use, come. Hold me. He's gone because he's still willing to respect our agreement, for the most part."

Sam sniffed against tears. "Okay," he said. "If you change your mind, or if he comes back—"

"Then we'll deal with it. Let me get the light." He got up to flick it off, saying, "Oh, and Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"If that'd been a kissing contest, you'd have a shiny new nigh unplayable fiddle to brag about."

This laughter was genuine. Crowley grinned to himself a bit emptily as he settled in against Sam, repeating his request for Sam to hold him close. As terrifying as Lucifer was, Sam was that good at calming him and more.


	6. The Naked Truth ("wearing each other's clothes")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains sexual situations.

The kiss with Lucifer, a kiss that made Crowley feel dirty in retrospect, and dirtier still when he realized that many a human had felt _that_ wronged when kissing him to make a deal, had been an experience neither he nor Sam were ready to repeat anytime soon. 

Lucifer didn't push for more intimate contact of his own, but he certainly popped in just to startle Crowley whenever things between the lovers started to heat up. Shower Time Between Lovers had become Shower With the Devil and Awkwardly Cover Up Your Naughty Bits. Quickies had failed to be quick enough, clothes half-on and the tension of waiting for Lucifer warring with their desire. 

Lucifer had even popped in while Sam was doing nothing beyond spooning behind Crowley and murmuring sweet nothings in his ear. Sam had had Crowley giggling, but the demon went cold and still when he recognized Lucifer's cold exhale and naughty smirk.

It all stopped when they moved to their separate rooms again, but Sam wasn't willing to have things stay like that. No, Sam was a fenced-in bull, snorting in his pen, ready to smash Lucifer's china to rubble should the opportunity arise.

And bulls didn't usually even go for that.

"Everyone else out there gets to screw around as much as they want because it's the end of the world. But _no_ , we've got to keep separate quarters. There are just so many things wrong with that," Sam groused, running a soap-wrinkled hand through his hair.

"Be careful, Moose," Crowley said with a quirk of his lip. "You're gonna take the paint right off."

"Right, cause we're trying to impress potential buyers," Sam snarked as he scrubbed, if possible, even harder at the blood stains. "I don't see how he can get away with this."

"Let's see, uh...oh yeah," Crowley rolled his eyes, "because he's the Devil. He may be your friend of 200 years, but he's an archangel, and a complete jackass."

Sam threw his sponge down to the floor with a wet thwap and headed across the room to take a break and pour out some relaxation in the dim light of the office. "Drink?" he asked Crowley.

"No. I'm content. Because, you know, Moose, it's thrilling to see you so worked up about this."

"Oh really?"

"You're not half this keen normally. It's your defiance. You don't want the boss telling you when you can screw. I love that about you. You never stop standing up for what you believe in."

"Or lying down for it," Sam laughed, and Crowley felt like he was missing some sort of a reference, but he ignored it. 

"I really wouldn't mind a fuck, though, no. Doing the lonely man's pull just doesn't have quite the same zip."

Sam grew quiet, so Crowley finally turned from his own bloodstain to look at Sam. "What?"

"Do you mean he actually lets you...uh." 

Crowley slowly nodded, and Sam tossed back his drink with a snarl.

***

So Crowley tried it again. But no, Lucifer clearly wasn't interested in interrupting his solo romance, only in interrupting Sam's.

"Back up," Sam finally started saying, flushing a little, or, "Uh, little farther away?"

"Seriously, Moose, are you 15? This frequent tightening of your trousers cannot be normal for a man your age."

Sam buried his face in his hand. "I think it's the angel power," he said, the sound muffled by his sleeve. 

"Really?" Crowley snorted. "Lucifer's charging you up when he pops in, is he?"

"This isn't funny," Sam sighed. "I really." He lowered his hand, sighing heavily. "I know, we got bigger issues. I get that. End of the World, we're causing it, I'm going Dutch with the Devil. But I still...." He blew out a breath. "Everything sucks," he commented, gesturing to the front page article staring up at them from the table. "Seriously."

"Except me," Crowley flirted. "I mean, we tried that." Luckily, he hadn't been on when Lucifer'd been in, but it had been a close thing.

Sam's eyes glinted with begrudging amusement. "You're _so evil_ right now. Did my blood even do anything, like, anything?"

"Mm, maybe you're just so naughty the confession didn't work," Crowley shot right back. 

Despite that they knew it wouldn't last, that they'd reach no end, they started to kiss. The tension was too good not to. They leaned toward each other, hearing the creaking of the wearing metal folding chairs, and they rose out of them together, and they fumbled their way back to the bedroom between kisses, a wide-eyed demon moving out of their way quickly. 

"Want me to...?" she offered.

"Sure, whatever," Crowley complained, and pressed Sam against the door to Sam's bedroom, slipping his hand into Sam's pocket for the key, making a delicious groan curl out of Sam.

The demon (Crowley couldn't remember her name) hurried to the office, presumably to clean up after them and put their food back in the fridge. Crowley leaned against Sam to turn the key and push open the door.

Sam shuddered, sitting down delicately on the edge of the bed. "I might...I might actually," he moaned, and Crowley's eyebrows shot up. 

"Really? I'll be damned, maybe you've got a point about that angel thing."

"Stall him?" Sam shuddered, finishing with the buttons on his outer shirt before flinging it off, then pulling off his t-shirt. He stretched out on the bed on his back, his knees up so he could work at undoing his pants.

"Wow," Crowley praised as he watched him. He managed to find a piece of chalk and scribble at the door for a minute, finally turning back around to see Sam lying gloriously naked, breath hitching enticingly with need.

Maybe they'd get this break. Maybe Lucifer was caught up dealing with something celestial, or maybe the chalk would even work. 

***

There was a knock at the door. Sam and Crowley were pressed together, _stuck_ together just a bit, sated and rested and almost glowing with their pleasure-heavy limbs and their yawns of satisfaction.

"He'll be back in ten. You need to shower." It was the demon from before.

Crowley nudged at Sam. "Sam, get up. Get _up_ , you lump."

"Hm?"

"Bitchy McWings will be here in ten minutes."

Sam groaned.

Crowley reached for the nearest shirt, Sam's, shoving it over his head, and he managed to find his own boxers, pulling them on. "You there, at the door. Stay there."

"I don't think so," she laughed. "And I have a name."

Crowley ripped open the door, and Sam made a quick noise of protest, laying Crowley's button down over his lap. "A little warning might be nice," he muttered.

"I don't follow orders from you," she told Crowley. She did glance at Sam for a moment, though, as if indicating, whether she meant to or not, that she'd be much more likely to follow some of Sam's.

"Angela? Go," Sam told the demon, who he could barely see around Crowley. "Just, go." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. 

They were still in the shower, not quite finished cleaning up, when Crowley was nearly blinded by the glow that was the morning star.

"Great. Hi, boss," he sighed.

"Good morning, Crowley." Lucifer steepled his fingers together. "Let me brief you on some of the things I've seen."

Maybe Lucifer wouldn't punish them for their night of passion this time. Maybe it'd just be another day at Lucifer Headquarters.

Lucifer leaned in just as Crowley was about to step out of the shower. Crowley resisted the urge to jerk away right off, offering his ear a bit more with a compliant tilt of his head.

"Thanks for offering to help Sam out with his little problem last night," Lucifer whispered, breath unnaturally cool. Crowley shivered for more than one reason. "I keep trying to offer, but he hasn't come around yet."

Lucifer dried off Sam's body with methodical care and at the same time showed it off to Crowley in a way so subtly blatant that devilish really was the word. All the while, he shot a series of innocent glances over as if to ask why his right hand man was staring and if there was any way he could put him at ease.

Yeah. _Right_.

The shower faucet, dripping, planted securely in the tile, incapable of movement beyond a slight tilt of its head, might have been confused with Crowley in that moment.


	7. White Lies ("cosplaying")

"So, are we gonna talk about it?" Lucifer asked Sam, voice echoing in the small bathroom.

"What, last night?" Sam blinked at the mirror.

"Yes, exactly," Lucifer said.

"Um. Okay, talk about it how?" Sam's eyes traced the distracting dark spots in the mirror for a moment.

"Well...I helped you out."

"No, you didn't."

Lucifer frowned, so with a silent sort of sigh, Sam went on to explain, his voice calm, "Lucifer, you not hindering me isn't the same as actually helping me."

Lucifer frowned a little more deeply. "So you weren't...satisfied?"

"Ah. Actually, I guess I was," admitted Sam. He glanced at some of the dots again, the imperfect shapes marring the plane like the red patches in Lucifer's old vessel had, or like the ones in Jimmy Novak's face when Cas had been about to blow.

"Well, then you're welcome." Lucifer adjusted his collar.

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's daylight. I shouldn't even be talking to you right now."

"You should never talk to me. Talking to the Devil's a sign of insanity, didn't you know?" Lucifer quirked his lip.

"Oh, I know. Trust me, I hallucinated you for a long time."

Lucifer sobered suddenly. "You know that wasn't me, right?"

Sam reached down and touched the scars in his palm. He'd made Lucifer promise to only heal new damage and not to touch any of his scars, especially not those.

"It was close enough, don't you think? You're not as innocent as you like to play," Sam said with an odd hint of fondness.

"What do you mean?"

"Okay, have you even seen yourself go on the rampage? Cause I have. And the Cage," Sam shook his head with a little huff of breath. "Thanks for letting us...uh...finish, I guess? And maybe I owe you one. But, just saying, you've pulled a lot of crap in the past." He swallowed and met his own gaze, hoping he hadn't upset Lucifer.

"Last night? All you had to do was ask," Lucifer said with a frown. "You'll never learn, will you? I want to help you, Sam." 

Sam frowned. He'd heard it said so many times, but he remembered the pain and the fear. He still had nightmares. 

"We're done talking about the Cage for now," said Lucifer.

Sam found himself gagged for a bit and sighed. It was time to kick back and observe the day from the passenger seat inside his own body again. 

***

"The beach?" Lucifer frowned. "Why?"

"It's just an idea," said Crowley. "How long can one stare at endless fields of wheat, you know?"

"True. I suppose there are a lot of places more beautiful than Kansas, certain parts of it anyway. Just for a little while. And it's not like it'd be hard to get back."

"Right. You're not used to the freedom of being able to fly anywhere you want," Crowley said. "Maybe it's time to stretch those wings."

"How very insightful," said Lucifer with surprise. "A little too insightful, really. So, shut up."

"You'll think about it, then? Might be, I don't know, relaxing."

Lucifer gazed at Crowley levelly. "I don't keep you around to book my appointments at the spa, Crowley. You're here to help me strategize."

"Right," said Crowley. "Okay, where was that grunt we were talking to yesterday? Where's he gone off to?"

"Clyde? Hm. I should tell him you called him that." Crowley swallowed. "Though," said Lucifer, "I don't think he'd find punishing you interesting. He's sort of soft and gooey, if you're not a fallen angel. Kind of makes you wonder about the current state of Hell, doesn't it?"

Kind of made Crowley wonder about not calling the guy a grunt, actually.

***

When Lucifer left Sam, Crowley excused himself to have a nice, hot shower. He'd gotten kicked around a bit. Could have been worse, with Lucifer, as Crowley knew from first-hand experience, but that demon, Clyde, he'd actually gone easy. The archangel adored seeing the hatred most of the demons had for Crowley. He'd made a thing of it.

Clyde had been civil, for someone kicking him. And he'd looked sorry. One of those demons, a demons' demon and not an archangels' demon, apparently. Crowley doubted Lucifer'd be using him again if Crowley hadn't tried to play up the act as if it was the usual fare. It could go either way. Still, feeling resentful and a little exposed because maybe he'd found a sympathetic demon, Crowley was tired and didn't want to see Sam for just a bit, even though their mannerisms were so different.

Because the hands were the same, the curve of the nose. They nearly had the same look of amusement, though Lucifer's was much colder. Their backs and shoulders, the lovely hips. It was all Sam's and Lucifer just borrowed it, but by now...Crowley and even Sam thought of the body as half Lucifer's.

Crowley tried to let the water wash away his incompetence. Because it had been so much easier to strategize when he hadn't paid much heed to the lives of those who were sacrificed. Now, he'd reverted. He cried sometimes now, in their bed as he was relaxing, as Sam wrapped himself around his back, warm, breath a regular temperature instead of cold like Lucifer's was.

He let the water wash away the ache of the kicks because Lucifer still liked to treat him like a dog, like a little footstool, and the shoes had been on Sam's feet, but Sam hadn't been wearing them, no.

***

When Crowley left the bathroom and stepped into his room expecting his Sam in plaid and denim with an apologetic smile and an offer of a good back rub, he found something quite different.

"Boss!" He bunched the towel up in front of him, breath catching. "Uh. Evening."

His Sam's face twisted into one of those familiar momentary half smiles of amusement before falling away. The gaze was blank, and the voice said, "Evening."

Crowley swallowed and eyed the lines of the white suit he _loathed_ , that he regretted helping the man find, though, curiously, the shoes had come off. He couldn't recall seeing Lucifer without shoes in any context except interrupting Sam when Sam was naked.

"C-can I get you something?" Crowley asked, trying not to flee. Lucifer would only find him in the end. Compliance, right? Compliance was key.

The coolness of the figure in the white suit melted away quickly, and it was his Sam staring at him. "Sorry," Sam said, anxious. "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"Sorry for scaring you." Sam looked down at his lap, ran fingers over the material of the white slacks. "Wanted to see if I could pull it off," he said, looking back up.

"Oh." Crowley's death grip loosened on his towel and he smoothed it out a bit. "Well, I reckon you can."

"Sorry," Sam said again, wincing. "Maybe I should have waited for after a lighter day. Uh."

"That...performance...could come in handy," Crowley said slowly, stepping forward with caution on the tile floor. 

"Yeah." Sam nervously tugged at the right sleeve a little, hating how clean Lucifer got the suit. It was an insult to those who'd spilled their blood on it, it a way.

"You better get out of that, though," said Crowley, voice rough. "We don't know who's watching, and all. Might need a game plan if we're ever going to try something like that."

Sam's toes curled a little against the tile. He glanced up shyly. "You're still dealing with today. I'm sorry, Crowley."

Crowley let the towel drop, stepping forward to undo the button at Sam's collar.

Sam laughed. "Okay, I get the message," he said, working at the jacket. Together, they took the suit off of him until everything that belonged to Lucifer was separated from him.

In the darkness after they turned out the bedroom light, Crowley turned toward Sam for once. Sam held him underneath the threading blanket, kissed his cheek gently, and told him, "We'll come up with a code word. We'll come up with a way for you to know it's me. I won't...I won't do that again."

Crowley tugged Sam just a bit closer in the dark and wondered if a Moose's ember of hope could be catching.


	8. Paper Umbrella, Plastic Sword ("shopping")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moderate violence.

"I don't see why we can't just go to a nude beach."

"Well, I have a specific beach in mind. So, that's why," Crowley said. "Now, turn."

Lucifer snorted. "I'm not gonna turn. You walk around me."

Crowley rolled his eyes, but did as asked. "Go with these," he announced. "They're perfectly normal. Nothing embarrassing about them. And a bargain."

Lucifer reached down to pluck at the unfamiliar waistband dubiously. "I can't help but think it's not very dignified."

"Little about the human world is."

Lucifer adjusted the white trunks on Sam's hips, gaze cool as he stared them down. "I just don't know if I can do this."

"Then sit on the sand and watch. I'm not making you swim."

"You couldn't."

"Right. Exactly. So I don't know why you're fussing about those. Think about it, boss. Worst thing that happens, someone pokes fun. One snap, and they're chum!"

Lucifer glared hotly at Crowley.

"Ah, that's right," Crowley winced. "Can't kill directly, can you? I'll just...lemme go buy these."

Dressing again with as little effort as it took to think about the action, Lucifer watched Crowley leave the fitting room with an unblinking gaze.

***

"Sam. Saaaaaam. If I'm getting my feet wet, you're gonna feel it too," Lucifer coaxed, and Sam finally gave in and stepped forward inside his own body, curling his own toes into the wet sand. He squinted against the sun. 

"Little bright," Sam complained. It had been months since he'd been at the forefront in direct sunlight.

Things couldn't have been more different, more full of movement and wonder, from the dank tile and concrete Sam had settled for. Sam felt the wet sand tug at his feet convincingly, he watched the waves lap, breathing in the air deeply, the scent like an old friend. The water was different from his Pacific ocean, a brighter blue, bright enough to not look real.

"Hey, uh, where's Crowley? He was the one who was so gung-ho, right?"

"I don't know, and, for the moment, I guess I don't care," Lucifer said. "If he runs, he won't get far. I'll get him back for you."

Sam frowned. "Uh. Thanks, I guess. You know, I used to go to the beach with Jess."

Lucifer reached up and curled Sam's right hand over his left shoulder for a moment. "I wish things could have been different." The breeze suddenly seemed chilling, not soothing. Sam stiffened and his face twitched slightly. 

"Uh...thanks," Sam said.

Lucifer slowly slid the hand back to rest at Sam's side. 

Sam looked over his shoulder with caution. "That resort's pretty busy."

"End of the World hedonism," Lucifer nodded. "That's probably what's eaten your Crowley."

"Could be. Wanna go have some drinks?" Sam suggested, oddly sweet again.

"Is that what you want?"

Sam laughed. "Um. Yeah. I guess that's what I want."

***

"So, what's an umbrella again?" Lucifer asked, picking the little blue-and-pink paper umbrella up out of the glass and twirling it with interest.

Sam smiled to himself, glad he'd picked a spot where his back was to anyone close enough to see he was talking to himself. "It protects you from the rain."

"It's very small."

"No," Sam said, a laugh surprised out of him. "It'd be bigger if it was for people. It's just miniature. And paper. That'd be the handle, and you'd hold it up over your head to keep you dry."

"Oh. Like a parasol."

"Right. Except, not for the sun."

"I remember when there wasn't any rain," Lucifer commented. 

"You mean, like...when the planet was forming?"

Lucifer tilted Sam's head. "No. I mean before Noah built his Ark." Lucifer fiddled with the stem of the little umbrella. He snapped it in two, a little splinter of wood still holding the halves together, and then he pushed the halves back together and made it whole.

Sam smirked slightly. "You know, some drinks have little swords in them."

"Why?"

"Why not?" Sam asked, and Lucifer actually didn't know how to respond to that.

***

"Hi. Um. My name is...Fergus," Crowley said, with a slight frown. "I...I heard, from a reputable source or two, that...." He took a deep breath, his words feeling choked. Panic started to claw its way up. Of all the crazy plans he'd ever had, this one was certifiable.

She eyed him for a moment, as he took in a shuddering breath.

"I'm so sorry," he choked out. "I'm sorry for what I've. I'm sorry for the damage I've caused, the lives I've." Pulling in his breaths was hard, his body felt wrong and soiled, his guts ready to pour out like, it seemed, his secrets were trying.

Her hand was at his shoulder, a firm touch full of strength that he sensed rather than felt. A dense sort of peace originated from that place of contact. He felt awash in it, almost drunk with it. A clarity he never thought he'd reached fell over his mind.

He felt new, somehow. And...safe.

"I know why you're here," she said. "I can leave him a message for you, Fergus."

"What I want is his help," Crowley breathed. "Before things get much worse."

She smiled one of the warmest smiles he'd ever seen, the warmest that had ever been aimed at him.

"I don't. I don't need to see him," Crowley breathed. "Is he here? Just, he knows who I am. And he knows what I need."

"You've been praying, with Sam, some nights." Her voice was so light, like it danced its way through the part of her lips.

Crowley's eyes grew wide, his lips pressing together.

"Don't be afraid," she said.

He closed his eyes tightly. Of course he was afraid. No angel had ever been like this before, not to him. Was it his almost-cured state? Was it his friendship with Sam, or his business relationship with Lucifer?

When he opened his eyes, she was gone.

***

"Where were you?" Lucifer asked. He leaned toward Crowley with purpose, sniffing at Crowley's shoulder with divine senses. "You smell like home," he said with a frown. " _My_ home."

"Imagine that. Guess I met another feather-brain."

Sam held up the drink he was sharing with Lucifer. "Want a sip?"

Crowley took one. "Mm. That's actually decent."

"This is a nice break, Crowley," Lucifer said. 

"Glad you think so, boss."

"I need you to leave us alone for a moment, Sam."

***

Crowley coughed, gripping at his chest, his eyes alternately wide open and closed tight as his lungs filled with sand and sand poured out his nose, through his throat and lips, out the corners of his eyes. He moaned in protest, the sound muffled by surprisingly sharp grains.

Lucifer clapped a single, exaggerated clap, and the sand was gone. Crowley panted. His lip trembled until he had to sob, and he turned away from Lucifer for some semblance of dignity. 

"There's really no reason to be upset," Lucifer said coolly. "You're fine. Look at you. You're crying over nothing, Crowley. You're always crying over nothing."

Crowley hugged his bare knees, trying to ignore the urine in his own swimming trunks, trying not to feel the wet sand underneath him.

"Well," Lucifer said. "You certainly don't smell like Heaven anymore, do you?"

Crowley shuddered and shook his head no.


	9. Hard Feelings ("hanging out with friends")

"Lucifer. Will you just let me in?"

"Well, let's see." Lucifer studied his nails, leaning against the door. "All signs point to _no."_

"I'm _Sam's friend_." Stated like it was one of the foundational truths of the universe. Who gave him the right?

"You helped him put me in the Cage," Lucifer said dangerously. "And then," a cornered curl crooked his lip. "You took him from me. You _broke his head_. What could you possibly have to say to me?"

Cas sighed. "Lucifer, what you say is true, all of it. But we have a bigger problem. _You_ have a bigger problem."

"How interesting. Because _you_ trapped me in my own personal Hell, took away Sam Winchester, and turned him against me."

"What?" Cas said with confusion. As far as he was concerned, Sam had always been against Lucifer.

"Pray tell, Castiel, what could be worse than all of that?"

"I believe Michael is close," Cas said. "Days away from a first meeting."

Despite his fear, his jealousy, and his need to see Castiel punished, Lucifer opened the door quickly at that and demanded, "Is that a...I mean. I know you're not funny, but is that a joke?"

"No. It's not a joke. We have a man with us, and his name is Chuck."

"Chuck," Lucifer said with a frown, the word unfamiliar on his tongue as he took the memory from Sam. "Oh, you mean Carver Edlund. He wrote the Winchester gospels."

"Yes," Cas said gravely.

"I think he likes me," said Lucifer thoughtfully. 

Cas squinted at the archangel.

***

"I suppose, as thanks, you'll want to say hi to Sam."

"I would like that, yes. You should probably let me."

"What is it with you and trying to save him from me?" Seeing Lucifer's expression, Cas knew it deserved an answer.

"He's my friend," he said again. "He deserves protecting. I tried to save him from Anna. It's not just you. I've even tried to save him from Dean."

"From Dean?" Lucifer pulled the memories from Sam, seeing Sam, hazed in soullessness, overhear Cas's concern about the state of his soul.

The heat in Lucifer's anger abandoned him. "Okay," he said. "You can have the afternoon with Sam. Agreement or not, though," his voice was riddled with intent, "I will kill you if you try to take him from me again. And you'll wish for a quick death, like last time. But it will take as long as it takes for me to get bored. And I know how to pass the time, Castiel." 

In a flash of light so familiarly bright it put Cas at ease even as he had to squint against it, Lucifer left Sam, who reached forward and hugged Cas close for the first time. "Hey. Hey, Cas."

There were footsteps in the hallway. Crowley cautiously walked in, looking between Sam and Cas, who pulled apart. 

"Crowley," Sam sighed out in relief, standing. He hadn't seen Crowley since the beach, since Lucifer had zapped them both back and nudged him toward the shower. "Are you okay?"

"Crowley," Cas addressed. Crowley stole a hug of his own, shifting a little in Sam's arms to look over at Cas questioningly. "Chuck saw that Michael was approaching. Lucifer is considering meeting with him to try and talk. What do you think?"

"You know the guy better than I do, Castiel."

"And I suppose Sam knows him better than either of us," Cas admitted.

"I mainly remember Lucifer," Sam said, taking Crowley by the hand toward the flimsy metal chairs that creaked. 

Cas watched Sam and Crowley's hands linger in each other's. "For what it's worth, Crowley," he said cautiously, "I'm sorry for betraying you."

"You are?" Crowley's brow furrowed. "Really, Cas?"

Cas nodded. "You were...good to me," he said. "And just as there was more to Sam than I thought there was, there's more to you too."

Crowley let go of Sam's hand and tried to find something to say to that. Ultimately, he failed, and conversation went back to Michael.

"There's something Lucifer can do to jog your memories of the Cage. I suppose I took a few of them in the transfer, but I think it was mainly the mixed-up version you were hallucinating that came through."

"Mixed-up? Wait, Cas. We're talking about Lucifer, right? I wasn't hallucinating Michael."

"There are spells too, beyond the, uh...jog," Cas went on, humanity not having done much for his powers of listening. "I know we're often against magic, but it's almost the apocalypse again, so we have to ask ourselves how much that gun deserves...sticking to." He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up a little in a way that Sam thought was very endearing. "We have resources. Your boyfriend knows much about magic," Cas said with a nod to Crowley.

Sam eyed Crowley for a moment, and Crowley looked nervously back.

"You didn't know that?" Cas asked. "I thought you knew that."

"Uh. No, I did. I guess I'd just never thought of him as my boyfriend before."

Crowley shyly smiled, just a little. "I like it," Sam commented, eyeing him. "It's almost the apocalypse, right? We can probably say 'boyfriend' if we want to." 

"I should get going," Cas said after a moment of Sam and Crowley staring at each other. "Dean and Chuck are fine, by the way. Everyone's fine. I might even get Dean to come with me next time we see each other."

"He'll come around," Crowley said. "He will." His eyes still hadn't left Sam's. 

Sam frowned and looked down for a moment. "Sure," he said. "You guys're probably right."

In parting, Cas rested a hand on Sam's shoulder for a moment, careful with the touch as if he might break Sam's fragile sense of hope.

***

"I thought Lucifer would want to come right back," Sam said.

"It's a blessing," reminded Crowley. "A change in the routine, a non-lethal one, is always good."

"Yeah, maybe." Sam frowned. "I'm sure it's fine," he agreed aloud, though he looked conflicted. Then, he laughed. "I'm worrying. I'm worrying about him. No wonder Dean," he started, then cut himself off.

"I picked a real winner for a boyfriend, let me tell you," Crowley said, then, more seriously, "You know, I heard tale that Clyde, that big bloke with the ear, is going to a bowling alley tonight. Think we should crash?"

"Bowling?" Sam asked, brows raised. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," said Crowley. "We should do it."

And while Sam was distracted by a slice of surprisingly good pizza made with stolen ingredients by people who wanted to share a bit of fun with a world that was both forgetting what that was and starting to believe it was the only thing left to live for, Crowley carefully disposed of a decently-sketched poster on the bulletin board warning folks of the archangel who shared his beloved's face during the day. It was not the first such warning, nor would it be the last.

But they had another round to bowl.


	10. Moose Season ("with animal ears")

Around three in the morning, bowling turned into Sam lying across a few chairs to nap and Crowley subtly pressing folks for the human and demon perspective on how the fallen angel vs demon, Michael vs Lucifer thing was going. The humans who went out bowling or to diners were actually the well-adjusted ones, if you asked Crowley. Things down at Dean's camp were a little sad and lonely in comparison. Croats were one thing, but demons and angels weren't Croats.

When Sam woke up and stretched to fight against his discomfort, he sat down next to Crowley and yawned, running a hand through his messy hair. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Just the state of things," Crowley said, watching as the owner of the alley eyed Sam pretty hard for a moment. "Hey, Sam, wanna head home now?"

Sam looked around a little, blinking sleep away. "Yeah," he said. "Sounds good."

"You lot, continue to fight the good fight. And I'll see you at work, Clyde."

Clyde nodded at Crowley and Sam.

Crowley pulled Sam toward the car, relaxing when they were all buckled in, the sigils offering him some level of comfort. "I think the owner was starting to recognize you."

"Oh," Sam said.

"Just what we need. Anyway, time to catch an extra hour or so of zed before you sprout your wings." He reached over and finger combed through some of Sam's messy hair.

***

Sam woke to find it was bright in the room, the sunlight coming in through the small window. "Crowley?" he asked.

Crowley turned to him, offering him the crossword. "Want a go?" he asked, and Sam gently took the pen and the crossword from him with sleep-clumsy hands.

"Sure," Sam said with a yawn. "You know something? It's day time."

"Your powers of observation are about what they always were," Crowley said. "Yes, it's day time. And, no, I don't know where the boss is. Nor do I particularly care. Maybe he's feeling generous," he said with a swallow.

The tone of voice, the choice of words, didn't fool Sam. They were both afraid of what it would mean if Lucifer had been gone for so long. "This is like, what, 18 hours? That's crazy."

Crowley laughed. "Really, Moose? Your evil conjoined twin gives you a moment's rest and you _miss_ him?"

Sam tried to fight a smile, staring at the crossword, which was still about three quarters of the way blank. "A hundred and eighty years," he reminded Crowley, even as he felt stupid for worrying. He raised the pen and started to fill in one of the blanks.

"You know demons," Crowley continued. "We like our survival. Most of this lot isn't gonna come knocking. No one _tries_ to find Lucifer." Sam frowned slightly. Crowley reached out and stroked his cheek until he turned into the touch and looked up. "The size of the heart on you, Moose," Crowley said with a shake of his head. "It puts the rest of you to shame."

He leaned across the bed to the sound of creaking metal, giving Sam a full kiss, still stroking his cheek and the stubble there.

***

"Don't do it."

"Do what?" Sam asked guiltily.

"You're nervous, I'm nervous, Clyde out there is nervous. But calling him, _praying_ to him? No, Sam."

Sam bit his lip. "Uh. Sorry. Guess I'm pretty transparent."

Crowley rested a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, I'm gonna go make sure there aren't any problems. You sit and look pretty."

"I might take a walk, actually."

"Well, don't go far. I don't want...."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, I get it. Everyone out there is either scared of me or wants revenge for Lucifer's...everything."

"We'll get you a disguise," Crowley teased. "Some kind of a hat to distract them all so they won't put two and two together."

"It's getting too late for that," said Sam.

"It's never too late to turn a situation around. Learned that from watching you. I'm gonna go check on the ranks. You take your walk if you want the sunlight, but be smart about it. Maybe Lucifer'll let us go camping together later."

"Or we could go back to that island," Sam said. "I liked it."

"Plenty of other beaches around, Sam."

Sam frowned. "Wasn't there something special about it? You were pretty insistent."

"Nothing _special_ , no. Just another thing to cross off my bucket list."

Sam didn't look like he believed Crowley. Fortunately, he also looked like he didn't care.

"Or, I got it, Moose. Fake antlers."

"What?"

"That should distract everyone enough, don't you think?" Crowley waggled his eyebrows.

"You're insane." Sam sat the completed crossword down on the bed, resting the pen on top of it.

"I'm so much older than you. How are you king of the crosswords?"

"Just lucky, I guess," Sam smirked.

"Well, be careful out there, you moron."

"No, look, I'll be totally fine," Sam said, spreading out his hands and placing his thumbs at his temples, fingers wiggling. "No one'll even guess."

"You're a moron," repeated Crowley.

Sam just grinned in agreement.

***

The sun felt like renewal, like a warm embrace no human could replicate. Sam sighed and felt the crunch of twigs under his feet, the slight give of damp dirt. He took in the rest of his surroundings. 

Before long, a group of teenagers were whispering harshly to each other just out of sight, and Sam tried to make sure to steer clear of them. But that didn't exactly work out.

When he heard a sound nearby, he turned. So they started to run. He rolled his eyes and kept walking.

So they followed him again. He could hear them approaching.

"What?" he finally snapped. "Just a guy, taking a walk. Okay?"

So, they ran away again.

The stalking made him a little nervous, actually. He decided to cut the walk short. He was almost back to the base when he heard one of the girls scream. He paused, conflicted, because the four teens definitely seemed like the type of kids to just be screwing around, but that was also exactly the type of kid who ended up being monster chow.

When he finally found the girl, a blonde with spiky hair and shoes that looked brand new except for the little bits of mud from the ground, she was holding her ankle, staring up at a tree. One of the branches was pulled half off the trunk. He heard footsteps heading away from them. They'd probably left her when he approached.

"You were up there," he said softly. "Right?"

"Don't talk to me," she said sharply. 

Sam heard some rustling nearby. Maybe not all of them had run. "Come on out," he said. "She's your friend. She needs help."

"Hey, Paul Bunyan," she said, testing her foot. "They're cowards, all of them. So don't bet on them showing up until you leave."

"You want me to leave?"

"Unless...can you tell me if it's a sprain?" she asked, and despite thinking the consequences might not be good, Sam put his hands out in front of him and slowly approached.

"Any time now," she snarked.

He knelt down. He reached for her ankle carefully, not wanting to make any sudden movements.

"Question for you."

"What? Am I a lumberjack? I'm not."

"Not exactly. I want to ask...if you're the one in charge of the base."

Sam checked her ankle. "Yeah, there's a sprain," he said, ignoring her question. "Seems like a good one, too."

"You look like the posters," she said. "It's you, isn't it? You usually wear a suit. So why the plaid?"

Sam looked up at her, briefly distracted by the necklace she wore. A pair of wings. It glinted prettily in the sunlight. "So you're not a coward, huh? Are you brave enough to hear me out?"

She tilted her head, reaching up to put her hand around the necklace warily as she eyed him. "I guess so," she said.

"Real life evil twin," Sam nodded. 

"Okay, I'm brave, but I'm not stupid." She released the necklace.

"Well, how's this. I'm just a moose," he said, placing his hands by the side of his head again. "You're hallucinating. Hamoosinating." At the look she gave him, he winced. He dropped his hands, folding them nervously in his lap. "Sorry."

"You're really weird," she commented. "Don't say anything else, just help me up."

"Wait. So, let me get this straight. You think I'm...Satan, but you want me to help you up?"

"Yeah."

Well, that was good enough for Sam, anyway. He soon had her on her way up to her feet. "Hey, guys," he called out as he supported her. "I hear you. Come and help your friend."

"Alicia," she said.

He turned to look at her. "You were climbing a tree. You guys were stalking me. Is that what you were doing up there, trying to get the jump on me?"

Alicia smiled innocently. "Maybe."

Sam caught one of her friends peering around the tree. "Hey! Come on," he said. "You need to help her." Slowly, the friend, the other girl, slunk out from behind the trunk to join them.

Focusing on shifting Alicia's weight to the friend and making sure they were good to go, Sam didn't realize the two boys were behind him until it was too late. He'd just straightened up again when one of them clocked him on the back of the head with something heavy, and he went down in a flop before he could even finish his next line of thought.


	11. The Lost Princess ("wearing kigurumis")

It wasn't exactly the first time Sam had ever woken up tied to a chair.

"If you're an archangel, how come your signal's, like, even weaker than the normal fallen angels?" Alicia asked. She was lying on the couch, in the middle of reading _Catcher in the Rye_.

"What were these guys, boy scouts?" Sam complained, shifting a little in the knots as he looked around. The carpet was stained and the wallpaper's blue flowers were fading heavily in spots, but the backpacks by the couch, the TV he assumed was working, and the half-drunk can of soda on the worn coffee table suggested the place was far from abandoned. 

"You need to answer the question," she said.

"Okay, what signal? What are you talking about?"

She frowned. "Your...angel signal? Jay and Alan think they can take you. I'm inclined to think they're idiots, but your signal's weak. How are you hiding your power?"

Sam blinked. "Hiding my power?"

Alicia rolled her eyes, setting the book down, holding her pendant up in front of her as far as the chain would allow. "This. This can sense the power of angels. It gets hot when they're nearby. It's definitely giving me something from you, or, it was before, anyway. What's with you?"

"What's with _me_? I'm not the one stalking people in the woods. Maybe that necklace is a piece of junk."

"So far, it's been more reliable than an EMF reader."

Sam paused. "You're a hunter."

"I'm not, no. But Alan and Jay's sister? She is. So they know what they're doing."

"They trapped 'Satan' with ropes."

"Soaked in holy oil," she said quietly.

"I'm a human, Alicia."

"Then why did it get hot? It doesn't just do that."

Sam sighed. "Look, can I call my boyfriend, at least? He's gonna worry."

"You tell me the number, I'll call him. I'll hold the phone."

Sam sighed. "Never mind." He didn't exactly know how to explain away Crowley's number.

"Then sit tight. Cause when they get back—"

"Dammit. Okay, I'm a friend of Lucifer's. I'm not him, but I'm close."

She shook her head. "This doesn't work on demons, pal. Or on humans."

"Well, maybe he's so powerful some of his...mojo is rubbing off. Hm? Did you ever think of that?"

She raised a brow, letting the pendant fall back against her chest finally. "I guess it'd be possible," she admitted. "Even I don't know _everything_."

"Okay. See? And if you don't let me go, I might accidentally pray to him, and then you'd have him on your hands. And you don't want that."

"I don't," she agreed. "I think Jay and Alan want that, though."

"Jay and Alan are stupid. If you cut me free and send me on my way, I'll make sure Lucifer doesn't touch you. You're smarter than this, Alicia. You are."

She slowly set her book aside, scooting toward the end of the couch he was closest to. "An angel told us Lucifer couldn't kill right now."

"But he can hurt you," Sam said seriously. "Trust me. Like, the other day, he had my...boyfriend coughing up sand."

"But...? But your boyfriend works for him too, right?" she swallowed. 

"Right. His number one assistant, actually. So just imagine what he'd do to try and punish you guys." He looked at her sadly. "I don't want that, alright? Teenagers do dumb things. Obviously. But you don't deserve Lucifer's wrath. I've seen it."

"Okay," she said finally. She eased up onto her ankle and went into the kitchen, probably to grab a knife.

The front door opened. 

"Jay? Alan?" Sam said cautiously. The boys stared at him, wide-eyed. "Uh. Alicia told me your names."

The older one pulled a lighter out of his pocket, and the younger one moved across the room, pulling out a cell phone and aiming the camera at Sam.

"Oh, no. Don't...don't do that. Don't do either of those things," Sam said, as the younger one started to record him. "Let me go, and he won't touch you. He could be back any second."

"We can't do that," the older one said, flicking the lighter a few times until it glowed.

"Don't be stupid, Alan," Alicia said from the doorway leading to the kitchen. "We're cutting him free. We don't want to mess with this."

"Listen to Alicia, Alan," Sam said, eyeing the flame of the lighter, glancing down at the ropes which still dripped slightly with oil that stained his shirt, his jeans.

"No! Do you have any idea how well we'll all sleep once this is over, how much happier our sister is gonna be? She helps clean up _your_ messes. But she won't have to."

"Look! Lucifer is at least just trying to survive. He has a brother out there who wants to bring on the end of the world!" Sam tried.

"He's just his friend," Alicia said. "He's not—"

In a bright flash that had the kids shielding their eyes, Sam _was_.

Alan, Jay, and Alicia stared at Sam, who'd suddenly grown a whole new set of mannerisms. A chuckle, the glint of two amused and fearless eyes, and Sam was leaning forward to blow the lighter out with the force of a precise gust of wind. Alan shivered, and glared.

"Wow," Lucifer said. "I knew humans were stupid, but you were actually going to set Sam on fire. You," he turned to Alicia, "cut me out of these, and you'll walk away."

Shaking, face paler than it had been when she'd fallen from a tree and sprained her ankle, Alicia walked forward and did as the Devil asked. "I'm sorry," she said honestly, flinching, stepping back.

Lucifer titled his head curiously, taking a look at her. "Go back to reading your book," he instructed, watching as she sat down and stared at the pages with unmoving eyes.

Alan tried to flick his lighter. 

"Oops," Lucifer said.

Alan dropped the lighter, clutching at his arm. "What...what's...?"

Jay dropped his phone, slowly kneeling down on the ground. "What's that smell? Smoke?"

"More like burnt toast," Lucifer said. 

"What's happening?" Alicia asked cautiously, peering over the top of her book. 

"Alicia, where did that come from?" Lucifer pointed to her necklace.

"Um. A hunter named Gloria," she said, distracted as her eyes flicked from one boy to the other. "What's happening to them?"

"Heart attack," Lucifer said, pointing to Alan, "stroke," he finished, pointing to Jay.

"You said you wouldn't touch us, Sam."

"Sam's not here right now. They're not dead. They're just...resting. But it's the same thing in the end," Lucifer said. 

"You promised!" Alicia screamed, throwing her book at Lucifer, who looked surprised. "You promised!"

Lucifer levitated the book back onto the couch. "I think you'll find that I didn't. Don't ever play with fire, Alicia."

With a flap of wings, Sam's body was back at the base.

And then Sam was alone.

***

"Whoa. What?" Sam asked himself, trying to locate Crowley. The door to one of the spare rooms had turned from boring old painted metal into attractive dark wood, carved and solid-looking and pretty.

Sam tried the shining doorknob. Unlocked. He pushed open the door. There was a giant four-poster bed with a lavender and gold bedspread that should have taken up nearly all of the room, but the room was about four times the size it had once been.  And...was that a walk-in closet? Sitting in a fluffy white chair was Crowley, and he was wearing some kind of a hooded, baggy one-piece outfit made to look like a Bulldog, complete with ears. He was staring at the open closet door, frozen in fear, full of regret and sorrow.

"Crowley?"

Crowley shifted slightly, looking over at Sam. He glanced at the open door, then back at Sam like his point was getting across, but it really wasn't. He clearly wanted Sam's help, though. That much, Sam got.

"Sam? That you?" called a voice Sam thought he recognized. Sam peered into the walk-in closet. It was the size the main part of the room had been just a few hours ago, and it was full of outfits. He stared. He'd never seen a closet so big. And whoever was talking, she was hidden behind a rack of clothes.

"Uh. Hi?" he finally said. 

"Do you think dog for him, or some kind of rabbit or something?" the voice asked, and then she pushed through a few of the clothes so he could see her.

"Meg," he said, stunned.

"Yeah." She held up two options on hangers. One was a little white rabbit one-piece outfit, and the other was...was that a hippo? Sam raised a brow. 

Hangers still in hand, Meg wrapped her arms around Sam, pressing her cheek against his chest. "Hey," she said.

Sam resisted the urge to stroke her hair, which was its former dark, wavy brown. He let his eyes close briefly. He'd missed her, more than he'd have liked to admit before he'd started admitting he missed Lucifer. "Guess he brought you back." It made sense. She'd been loyal to her creator, and loyal to Sam. Lucifer could trust her with both of them, and he probably thought she deserved some sort of reward. Maybe she did.

"Yeah." She pulled away, looking up at Sam. "You know, I think maybe hooking up with you has made him nicer. Or, at least more thoughtful. Which, I can't exactly blame him. I've been in there too. Riding you's like going under in the real world and ending up in Oz."

She held up the hangers to present the outfits to Sam. "Which one do you think's better? There are a few more too. This is gonna be fun, for once." The spark of enjoyment in her eyes made Sam feel pleased, even as he chanced a glance back at Crowley to find he still looked terrified.

"Just the outfit, right?"

"For now, yeah. Call it step one."

"Dog is fine."

She reached over to hang up the other options. "Yeah, we all know how much you like dogs, Sam," she said slyly. Thoughtfully, she added, "I should get a pig one. Pig would be good."

"Yeah," Sam said absently, looking at Crowley again. "Sure thing, Meg." He stepped closer to Crowley, standing by his chair in quiet support.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alicia's pendant designs by amayakumiko. [[x](http://optimisam.tumblr.com/post/56302417179/amayakumiko-johncroftianlullaby), [x](http://optimisam.tumblr.com/post/56297441530/amayakumiko-johncroftianlullaby)]  
> 


	12. Pet ("making out")

"Standing awful close, Sam," Meg said, eyeing the way Sam was hovering near Crowley's chair.

"Ah." Sam winced. Meg was at full power, probably. He was just a human with some angel residue hanging around he couldn't even tap into, and Crowley was...sort of a pathetic demon, in terms of powers. And that was all Sam's fault.

Before Sam could answer, bright light lit the room, and Crowley stiffened in the chair, crossing his arms, looking up defiantly.

"Meg. Is that what you'd like to be called? Meg?" Lucifer asked.

Meg nodded carefully.

"Do you like the room?" It looked like the archangel actually cared, which she found slightly creepy, but she answered readily.

"You know something, I do. It's very me. Thanks."

"It's only what you deserve, Meg. You don't mind if I leave you with Sam, do you? You'll play nice?"

"Wait, where are you going?" Meg asked with a hint of desperation. "Lucifer?" He went very still. 

Lucifer reached out slowly, his hand like an injured bird trying to find a perch. He rested it on her shoulder lightly. "I'll be in touch. Now, as for my question?"

Meg sighed. "I'll play nice," she murmured. 

"Good," he said. He gripped her shoulder briefly with a firmness that reminded her of his strength without hurting her, without intimidating her. "You're in charge while I'm away," he said. He left Sam again in another flash of light.

***

"And Cas is with him, right?"

"Right. And, get this. Cas is human."

"You mean he's fallen, or whatever. It drained their power, didn't cut it out completely. Shouldn't you know that?"

Sam laughed. "No, Meg. He's like... _human_ human. Metatron did that."

"The archangel?"

"More like...the power-hungry secretary? He's the one who pushed them all out of Heaven. All of 'em, far as I can tell."

"Whoa."

"I know. Anyway, I think you should call Cas. He was just here. Bet he'd come back if you called."

She flushed a little. "Mind your business," she said.

" _You_ mind it. Then I won't have to."

There was a light knock at the door.

"Tea!" Meg said. "And liquor. Come in, you ugly old stray."

Crowley opened the door with a little push of magic, but it was much less of a spectacular thing than it once might have been. He nodded at Meg, the ears on his hood flopping, and he made his way to the small table between her and Sam, setting the tray down and starting to pour, as she said, both tea and liquor.

"He's with Dean, right, Cas?" she asked after watching Crowley for a moment. "Where's their camp?"

"Kansas City."

"Can we go there?"

Sam smiled sadly. "Uh. _You_ could, if you want."

"Dean'll wanna see you, Sam."

"I said yes. He's got nothing to say to me." At the look on her face, he put up his hands in front of him. "His words."

"You're not seriously buying into his bullshit, are you? You _are_. I'm surprised at you. He's like sixty _percent_ bullshit. I'd know."

"I'm surprised at me too," Sam muttered, and she reached across the air above the little table for one of his hands, taking it in hers.

"It's gonna be okay, Sam."

Crowley watched her in surprise. She narrowed her eyes and watched Crowley for a moment. "Sit down, pig," she ordered. "On the floor, at my feet." She relaxed a little when Crowley did.

"You'll stop this," she continued, nodding to Sam. "Just like you stopped everything else. You know he still loves you, right? You know he's fighting not too far from here, staying alive for _you_ , staying close, just in case."

Sam shrugged, a little uncomfortable at the dose of reality Meg was trying to feed him. He may have missed her, but they still weren't all that close, were they?

"Listen to her, Moose," Crowley said, voice small. His head was bowed a little, almost entirely hidden by the hood. 

Sam smirked slightly, gazing at the lowered hood with fondness. "He's been trying to convince me of that too," Sam explained.

Meg laughed, releasing Sam's hand. "Good dog," she said in a syrupy tone, patting Crowley's head harshly. "Good pet," she spat, her lip curled and trying not to tremble. She was glad Crowley couldn't see her expression. "Lucifer gave Crowley to me," Meg said with pride, then, more cautiously, "I guess he's on your no-kill list, though, right?"

"Right," Sam said. "Meg, uh. Be." He winced. "Could you maybe not...? Uh."

She tilted her head to try and understand, and then her eyes widened. "No," she said. "You're _friends_ now. You're friends with _Crowley_ , just like that, like that makes any goddamn sense."

Sam flinched, lowered his head a little. "Yeah, I am," he said honestly.

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any more cute but stupid." Meg stood, stepping around Crowley, staring at Sam. "Why would you...? I mean. Lucifer, I get. Cas, I really get. Even Dean, I mean, he cares about you. But Crowley?" She turned to Crowley, pushed him slightly on the shoulder until he laid on the ground curled up, and then she kicked him with a grunt of effort. And then she kicked him again. "This sack of shit, Sam? Seriously?"

"Hey," Sam said, softly with a shake of his head. She stopped, the waves in her hair bouncing as she looked over at Sam.

Sam eyed her warily. "Your beef is with me," he pointed out. "And...it's not what you think. I mean, no one forgot about you. Not even Dean. We  _missed_ you. I even made, uh. I made like a little grave marker to remember you by."

"You did?" she said softly, stepping around Crowley again. "Really?"

"Yeah. You should have Lucifer take you to it."

"Thanks, Sam," she said with a blink.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry Crowley got to you. I'm sorry I didn't look for you after we went to fight Roman."

She took in a deep breath through her nose. "Yeah, well...I'd been playing my cards awful close to my chest. I get it."

She finally sat down in her chair again, reaching for one of the pretty little teacups with irises on them. Sam reached for his too, taking a sip. He put it back on the tray and fiddled with the little sugar spoon for a bit, putting some in the cup, stirring. "I do consider us friends," Sam said. "And I understand you're mad. Crowley's," he glanced down at the figure still lying on the floor. "creative. Or, at least he was. It must have been hell."

"He's not very strong anymore."

"No, he's not. And I'm...I'm not gonna say you can't get revenge. You wouldn't listen to me if I _did_ say it. It'd be wrong to say it, wouldn't it? Lucifer's giving you free reign, right? And if anyone understands wanting revenge, it's me."

"Me, Azazel. Lilith, I guess," Meg said with a quiet fondness. "And Lucifer."

"And Crowley too. Do you know how many times I tried to kill him, after what happened with Ruby? Enough he had to take Bobby's soul as insurance. And he hadn't even done anything to me. Oddly enough, he was actually the one who taught me to look beyond revenge, when I was faced with Jess's real killer," Sam said.

Meg nudged Crowley with the toe of her boot. "Sit up," she said.

Crowley carefully pushed himself up, movements uncertain. "I'm sorry," he sighed, leaning against her chair. "I'm sorry, Meg." Sam tried to make out his face, but he was turned away and the hood was so big.

"What?" she sort of froze. She glanced up at Sam, as if to ask if she'd heard what she thought she heard.

Sam gestured to Crowley. "He's said he's sorry."

"What?" She frowned.

"He's," Sam paused. "He's sorry, Meg."

There was a pause in which all three of them held their breath.

"I need you both to get out of here," Meg said curtly. "We'll call it a night, or whatever. Nights are yours?" She raised her brows, and Sam nodded in confirmation. "Okay. Then I'll see Crowley tomorrow. Without you." She nudged Crowley's side with the toe of her boot. "Don't want him playing on your sympathies."

"He's not playing," Sam said quickly. "Meg, he's...actually different."

"He's good, we know that, but you're not stupid, Sam," she said with a hint of disgust.

"The third trial," Sam tried, eyeing her boot warily where it touched Crowley's...dog suit. "The third trial was curing a demon."

"Seriously, Sam? Did big brother drop you on your head while I was gone? You can't cure a demon. You may have been a handyman for a year, but there are some things people can't fix. You need to go. Both of you."

Sam stood, took his opportunity to bend down, holding his hand out in Crowley's line of sight. Crowley's fingers peeked out of a too-long sleeve and grasped the hand, letting Sam help him up. 

"I didn't mean to offend you," Sam said sadly. "Honest, Meg. We're leaving. I'm sorry. For what I did, for what he did. For everything."

Meg watched from her fluffy white chair, stone-faced with burning tears in her eyes, as Sam led Crowley out carefully. Sam touched Crowley like he was dear, like he was precious, and her gut twinged. She hated Sam for it, actually _hated_ him for siding with an animal, for cherishing one.

She hated Sam's heart, not for the first time. And as she let the tears fall, she half wished she hadn't been brought back at all.

***

Crowley gripped at Sam once they were through the pretty door and it was firmly shut. He curled into him, buried his face, and Sam rubbed his back through the fabric of the ridiculous dog outfit. He listened to Crowley's quiet sniffs and felt his trembling.

"Are you okay?"

Crowley shook his head.

"Can I...can I help?"

A shrug was the only response, so Sam peeled back the hood for a moment, pressing a kiss to Crowley's tear-slick cheek. "Come on," he said. Crowley looked at him, confused, but Sam didn't offer any further explanation. He just asked, "You okay leaving the house like that?"

Crowley looked down at the ridiculous outfit. He stayed quiet for a moment. No, he didn't _want_  to wear it, not in private, not in public. It was part of his punishment, though, and he deserved it. So he had no answer for Sam.

"Stupid question," Sam said, stroking Crowley's hair. "Let's get you changed. Then we'll get out of here."

Sam handed Crowley a soft sweater of his (or jumper, as Crowley called it), but Crowley shied away from it. 

Crowley reached into their closet and plucked out one of Sam's more worn-in plaid shirts instead. He lowered his eyes as he unbuttoned it and put it on. Sam stroked his hair again as he buttoned. Crowley's fingers fumbled with a few of them, but Sam waited patiently with him until he managed to do them all up. Crowley then silently found one of Sam's jackets and put it on too. He was ready.

Sam took him by the hand and led him out of the base and into their car. 

***

Crowley hummed along to some of the music on one of the few radio stations left playing every night, and then he sang along softly, voice cracking a little, and seemed to brighten up after a while. 

Sam finally stopped the car and got out.

"Sam," Crowley said curiously, looking around as he shut his door, "this is Make-Out Bridge."

"What?!" Sam stared at him.

"You brought me to Make-Out Bridge."

"Okay, you spend way too much time talking to people out here. I brought you here to watch the water and the sunset."

"Fair enough," Crowley said. He eyed Sam a little, though.

"You're still trying to get over Meg's whatever," Sam said. "I didn't bring you out here to kiss you. That'd be...gross."

"I'm wounded." Sam tilted his head, assessing Crowley's level of honesty. He'd thought Crowley might be hurt he hadn't stood up for him more against Meg. He wasn't sure what the right tack was, between wanting Crowley to feel like he mattered and wanting Meg to feel like her feelings did too.

But maybe it'd help distract him, if they just made out like it was any other night Sam might have accidentally driven them to Make-Out Bridge.

He gently eased Crowley against the side of the bridge and swept in, brushing his lips against Crowley's until he heard a lovely little sigh and the kiss was returned.

Plaid material brushed against plaid as they pulled each other close, kissing and watching the sunset. The expansive view made him almost grateful for Kansas's barely-interrupted flatness.

"You're the absolute best, Moose," Crowley said with a sigh as they leaned against each other, as the stars began to appear.

"You too," Sam said, careful to sound like he meant it, because he did.

They stood in silence except for talk about constellations, until Crowley grew restless. He was itching to bring something up, but part of him wasn't ready yet.

"I think I love you," Sam said quietly to the night.

Crowley turned to him in the moonlight, frowned in confusion, looking a bit uneasy.

"Never mind," Sam said. "Just." He gestured to the sky. "Sorry."

Crowley scooted just a bit closer again, more still where he'd been restless, somehow more satisfied, for the moment, where he'd been deeply questioning and unable to voice his thoughts before Sam's admission.

"The sunset was nice," Crowley said, "and the stars. But the most beautiful thing out here is you."

Sam snorted. "Thanks, Crowley," he said.

Crowley absently scratched his fingertips over the material of the jacket he was wearing and watched the stars in silence with Sam like he'd read Sam used to do with Dean. He was a poor substitute, he knew, but at least Sam had a substitute at all.


	13. Better to Have Loved ("eating ice-cream")

Sam was shaken awake. He gripped the bed frame for a baffled moment to realize that the ground, the walls, the light fixtures, it was all shaking.

The small window blew out. Sam turned to look, seeing pieces of glass get shaken off the rumbling sill. He pushed himself to his feet, glancing down at his boxers and blinking sleep away, and pulled on his discarded jeans quickly. He glanced at the outside wall, with its fresh hole like a gaping mouth and the shards of glass like teeth defeated by wear and tear, defeated by a diet of things they were no match for.

And then a crack formed in the wall that grew, slick and dangerous like a calligrapher's flourish underlining a death threat. Sam put on his shoes with haste and tried to duck out of the way of the falling ceiling debris that was turning his room into some kind of apocalyptic snow globe. He threw on his plaid shirt without buttoning it as he ran out into the hall, the ground still trembling underneath the tile, one of the light fixtures swaying and creaking as it flickered and died.

"Crowley!" he called above the ominous rattling noise of the lights and the walls and the shaking furniture. He almost ran right into Clyde.

Clyde shrugged and followed Sam to Meg's room.

"What is that?" Crowley gasped, gripping the bedpost and staring up at the ceiling. "Is that Lucifer?"

"Do I look like I know?!" Meg said, throwing things into a suitcase. She looked up. "Sam. Sam, throw together some supplies. As much as you can carry. And you, Clyde...do that too. Crowley, go pack some food."

Crowley made haste to obey. Sam watched the ceiling rain white piece of rubble down onto Meg's beautiful bed, onto the dresser, dotting the carpet with them, letting them plop leisurely into the teacups from the day before.

Clyde hesitated. "This is Lucifer, then? Why is he doing this?" he asked. He eyed Sam suspiciously.

Sam snapped out of his distraction, saying, "No idea. Should I...call him?"

A sudden screeching sounded, and Meg and Clyde covered their ears, but Sam tilted his head. His brow furrowed. It wasn't Lucifer, no. That wasn't Lucifer's voice.

"Meg, that's good enough," Sam shouted when the sound stopped. "Clyde, you need to take Crowley and get out."

"What, did you understand that?" Meg asked. The fire alarm went off.

"It's not him!" Sam shouted. "Go. Get going!"

Meg zipped up the case and started out of the room, Clyde close behind. A tea tray-sized chunk of the ceiling fell down near Sam. He stared up at the hole it left.

"Come on, Sam!" Meg said, turning back to look at him, afraid for him. But Sam was already closing his eyes and praying to Lucifer. 

***

Lucifer stared at the crumbling building with wide eyes.

 _Who is it?_ Sam asked from inside. _It's an angel, right?_

_You big, dumb ape. You should've run!_

Lucifer zapped them to Meg and Crowley, who were running toward the woods, Crowley behind, panting and hefting her suitcase, Meg in front, cursing under her breath. 

Before Meg could slow to a stop and address Lucifer, Sam and Lucifer were on the opposite side of the headquarters and Sam could see him. Same outfit he'd had on last time they met, same little brother, but different somehow too, the body a little older.

Just as Sam was bracing himself, sure that Lucifer would confront him, going back on what he'd said, starting the apocalypse anew, Lucifer took them away from him, from Michael.

They sat in an empty motel room in Utah practically too small to pace in, and Lucifer sat at the wearing table for nearly two hours, not allowing Sam to speak to him, keeping Sam separated from him, not letting Sam see anything.

***

When they returned to the base, it was rubble. The burned-out bodies of demons who made it out of the building decorated the lawn like grotesque gnomes. They were Sam's co-workers, Lucifer's employees. That was the only reason they were lying dead, the only reason they had died in pain.

They walked toward the forest, not flew, an odd gravity in the air, in the space inside of Sam between his consciousness and Lucifer's, odd only when one considered that Lucifer had been so willing to see his own die not so long ago, 

Sam saw a slight teenager with a snapped spine and burned out eyes on the ground. His heart went cold as he recognize her spiky, blonde hair.

Slowly, Lucifer reached down, hearing Sam's thoughts, and he cupped her face. He mended her together with clinical attention. It was the first time Sam had felt Lucifer heal anyone but himself and Crowley.

Michael was supposed to love humans, right? So why had he...?

Alicia breathed with a gasp, then coughed and blinked against the smoke in the air.

"Sam?" she tried.

Lucifer let Sam come forward. "Run," Sam said. "Go home, Alicia."

She pushed herself up, and Sam could see Lucifer had even fixed her sprain.

Lucifer turned around and looked at the demolished place he'd called his first home on Earth, and mourned.

*** 

"Is this better?" Lucifer asked awkwardly. He'd upgraded their room, at Meg's insistence, to a penthouse suite. Yeah, better was right. Lucifer still didn't quite grasp what comfortable living was. But then, not only was he an angel, he'd been in the Cage for most of his life.

"We need food," Meg said. "Well, not _me_. But Sam and Crowley do."

"I trust you, Meg," Lucifer said, reaching into Sam's pocket for his wallet, handing it to her.

When she left, Crowley demanded, "So, who was that, who attacked? It wasn't you, but that thing was amazingly powerful. Not one of the fallen, no."

Sam came forward when Lucifer let him, and he said, "Michael. It was Michael."

Crowley said, "Ah." He seemed to relax, actually, considering Michael was the one Sam knew, the one Lucifer knew. Sure, he was powerful, and angry, but they had an advantage, even if Michael had the same one over them.

Lucifer said nothing.

***

"What is this?" Crowley demanded.

"One, you're dressed like a little green dragon, so don't use that tone with me. Two, it's ice-cream."

Sam, Crowley, and even Lucifer all stared at Meg.

"Ice-cream's like the traditional break-up food, right?"

"Break-up?" said Sam. "We had our house ripped apart. We didn't break up with anyone."

"Same difference. Do you want it, or not?" she raised a brow, offering them spoons from Clyde's bag, which they'd taken from his side as he rotted in the grass.

Sam reached for a spoon. 

"Rocky Road. Fitting, right?"

So they ate ice-cream in silence and thought about the home they'd lost. 

And inside of him, in a place where the wall between Lucifer and Sam blurred, Sam felt Lucifer shudder, and he felt Lucifer weep. He ate his ice-cream and tried to soothe him. He understood. He really understood.


	14. Faith ("genderswapped")

"What?!" Sam asked Lucifer through his own reflection. There was no way he'd heard the archangel right.

"We need to go back to headquarters," Lucifer said, "before it collapsed." 

"You want us to go back in time? To stop Michael?" 

"Stop Michael? No. I had a surprise for you, so, let's go get it. It won't take long, just a second. In and out."

"No," Sam said. "Absolutely not."

Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "It's daylight. I don't exactly need your permission."

"Then stop asking for it," Sam said. "Cause I'm not giving it, not for some trinket."

"Watch your tone," Lucifer said darkly.

"No." Sam narrowed his eyes too. "There's only one way I'd go back with you." He waited in silence for Lucifer to read it from his mind.

"You want to save one of _them_?" Lucifer said, voice turning shocked and small. "Why? Sam, we don't need them."

Sam didn't try to explain his feelings of guilt, his need to save people, his affection for the demons he'd gotten to know through their interaction with him both as Lucifer and as Sam. "We could use the man power, and you know it."

"We'll see," Lucifer snarked. 

***

Sam found himself standing his original bedroom, not the one he'd shared with Crowley. Lucifer reached into the nightstand drawer for a velvet-covered jewelry box. Lucifer put it in their jacket pocket. The building started to shake.

Lucifer casually strolled out of the room, though his mouth thinned into a hard line. He guessed at where Angela, a demon he thought had particular promise due to liking Sam but not Crowley, might be. Finding her fairly quickly, he zapped her into the suite with Meg without checking to see that she got there. The rumbling of the building intensified, and Lucifer began dodging debris, blinking in surprise and pausing when a light fixture fell right in front of him and shattered.

Lucifer inside this time, Sam understood Michael's shout from the day before clearly. "I hear you, Lucifer!" Michael raged. A chill ran down Sam's metaphorical spine, and down his real one too, it seemed, as Lucifer faltered, looking around.

_Save Clyde,_ Sam urged.

_Why, Sam?_ Lucifer asked with disgust. A demon was still a demon.  _Why him?_

_Because he's got seniority,_ Sam said, and Lucifer had to give him that one.

Lucifer found Clyde as he was shoving supplies into a duffle bag. Sam came forward and said, "Clyde, you need to find a new body."

"What was the point of that, Sam?" Lucifer asked as Clyde flew out of the body of the large man and hurried to find an unoccupied body. "You might have noticed, but we're on a bit of a tight schedule." The fire alarm went off.

_I took the bag from Clyde's side, right? That body definitely dies and gets put on the lawn like the others._  


Lucifer sighed and rolled his eyes, delicately grasping the vacated meat suit by the shoulder and the bag by the strap and zapping them out onto the lawn. _You're so much more trouble than you're worth, Sam Winchester._

Sam sat smugly inside his own body and gave no response. He liked Clyde, and he'd take his wins against Lucifer where he could get them.

"Oh," said Lucifer aloud, watching as Alicia ran toward the base. "Your little friend's full of Clyde." He raised his voice, assuring he was heard by the demon. "Get out of her, Clyde. Come on. We'll get you one in town." Lucifer held out his hand, palm up, and Clyde curled into it in a dense ball of smoke. They were gone before Michael found Alicia, knowing their past selves would heal her and send her on her way. She'd be just fine.

Lucifer got a glimpse of Michael laying some of the other burned-out bodies on the lawn as examples of his devotion to his mission of reforming his little brother.

***

"I officially hate time travel," Sam said. 

Lucifer sat the velvet box on the table and held smoky little Clyde in his hand, eyeing him as the smoke curled around his fingers. "We need to get him a new body."

"What? Who? Who's that?" Meg asked.

"Clyde," Lucifer said slowly.

"Okay. And what's in there?" Meg poked at the jewelry box. 

"Present for me, apparently," Sam said. "Where's Crowley?"

"Went to go take a nap. I kept him up most of the night, so I guess it's fair. Open that. I wanna see what's in it," Meg instructed, stepping closer.

"With everyone watching? I don't think so. Here," Lucifer said, petting Clyde with a fingertip curiously. "Angela, Meg, go and find Clyde a new meat suit. Get him some options. The condition doesn't matter. I'll fix it up like new." Lucifer knew Sam liked it when they recycled.

***

Lucifer released Clyde into the room, and Clyde stretched out as black smoke, then made himself scarce by looking around the rest of the suite so Lucifer and Sam had some privacy.

"Open it," said Lucifer. 

Sam came forward and pulled the box a little closer, pulling the lid up. "Angel wings. Like Alicia's, I bet," Sam said, peering at the pendant closely.

"This way, even when I'm not around, you can spot angels." Lucifer untangled the chain from the box. "I know you're not really a fan of amulets, except for that one you gave Crowley."

"Yeah, well," Sam swallowed, trying to ignore the fact he'd offered the amulet back to Dean when Lucifer had saved it in a display to earn Sam's trust. Dean had mailed it back (with a cutting response that Sam had kept in his pocket for days), and, defeated, Sam had given it to Crowley to do with as he wished. "At least this one works," he said.

"Well, so did that one," said Lucifer. "Castiel just didn't know where to look. Not that that's surprising. You know that your Crowley takes it out sometimes and holds it when I give him a break? It's creepy. He's like a stalker, Sam. You're dating your own stalker."

"Pot, kettle," Sam said with incredulity.

***

Meg and Angela came back with a body each in a fireman's carry.

"Big guy, beauty queen," announced Angela. "Most of the rest were in pieces, so we didn't bother."

Lucifer laid a hand on each body, repairing them, but not bringing them back to life. They laid the bodies out on the carpet.

Clyde took a minute to decide, hovering, before finally slipping into "beauty queen". Clyde sat up, reaching into the pocket of the women's jacket, finding her ID with some trial and error. "Faith," Clyde read. 

Meg laughed. "We're like Charlie's Demons."

Angela hefted the extra body up easily, walked to the window, which Lucifer opened, and tossed him out. They heard the sick crunch, and Angela looked curiously down at the place where he'd landed. "He looks about how he did when we found him," she joked.

Sam walked over to the table, picking up the amulet, placing it around his neck. He thought about what Lucifer had risked, sending them back in time. Michael wasn't someone to be messed with, apparently, not even when you were the Devil himself. Lucifer had gone cold and scared when they'd seen Michael.

"What's that?" Crowley asked, eyeing the pendant. 

"It gets hot around angels." Lucifer held the amulet out by the chain delicately. "Wanna feel? I hear you get hot around angels too."

"Oh, shut up," Crowley rolled his eyes. "We still have that ice-cream left, Meg?"

"Not enough for a pig like you to be satisfied, but, yeah, we do."

Crowley went to rinse off one of the spoons and get himself some ice-cream.

"You know, Meg," Lucifer said, "Castiel would like to hear from you. He's moving on from you, Crowley."

"I get it," Crowley shot back. "He's gone. That ship sailed. But at least I got to him first. That kills you just a little bit, Meg, doesn't it? Even just a little?" 

Meg put on a sweet smile, eyeing Crowley in silence for a long moment of nothing but Crowley eating ice-cream from the container and humming to himself. "He was good," Crowley finally said again. "He was a happy little bottom. And surprisingly easy to woo."

Lucifer scoffed. "You know, I feel bad for you, Crowley."

Crowley ate more of the ice-cream, glancing up. "Why? We had a good thing, but the time passed."

"I feel bad because you're such a bad liar. You loved him, as much as you could." Crowley's gaze sharpened and he curled his green, be-dragoned arm around the floppy cardboard of the container in defiance. "You loved him, but he betrayed you."

Angela smirked, and Faith's expression was blank, but Meg said, "Finish off the ice-cream. I'm gonna go get something else, if one of those two helps me out. Not used to feeding humans."

Sam waited until the women shut the door and got a few steps away before saying, "I didn't know about you and Cas." 

"Shut up, Moose." 

Sam got up to grab a second spoon and rinse it off. "I guess we're finally putting this to its intended purpose," he joked.

"Angels don't make me hot," Crowley said bitterly.

Sam nodded. 

"Cas is just. He's different."

"Uh. Yeah," Sam agreed. "I used to trip all over myself saying hi to him."

"Really?" Crowley looked over, pushing the container to Sam so Sam could get a few bites in.

"Oh yeah. I even," Sam bit his lip. "I said 'oh my god' and apologized for blasphemy."

Wearing a dragon kigurumi he'd been placed in for punishment, sharing ice-cream he hadn't chosen with a boyfriend he'd chosen well before the boy had chosen him back, Crowley laughed hard at that, some sort of barricade inside of him that he'd been adding scraps of furniture to crumbling away now that he wasn't the only one who got stupid around Cas.

"You're endearing, Moose," Crowley announced, tears at the corner of his eyes as he chuckled a little more. "I'm very glad to say you're mine."

Sam slid an ice-cream sticky hand into Crowley's. He gave it a light squeeze, only for the squeeze to turn harder. Crowley made a noise of protest.

Still gripping the hand, Lucifer came forward to say, "Talk about an awkward conversation, you two. Recounting your sad, sad feelings for Castiel. I don't even have bile, but I can feel Sam's rising." In a quick flash, with one last expression of disgust, Lucifer popped out and was gone.

Soothing Crowley's hand with gentle fingers, Sam said quietly, "You okay? Anyways. I think maybe Cas didn't know what he had."

The words swaddled Crowley's heart with a soft blanket made of flannel plaid and brought a lump to his throat that had nothing to do with the marshmallows in the ice-cream. He gripped Sam's hand just a little bit with smarting fingers to make sure that the two of them were still there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam's pendant designs by me. [[x](http://optimisam.tumblr.com/post/56302417179/amayakumiko-johncroftianlullaby), [x](http://optimisam.tumblr.com/post/56297441530/amayakumiko-johncroftianlullaby)]  
> 


	15. 180 ("in a different clothing style")

To say Sam was having a bad day by the time they all pulled on drab uniforms and sat in one of Dean's camp's cabins would be like saying Hallucifer had been an annoying friend. The statement was true, but it didn't cover the complexity of the situation.

Lucifer hadn't thought he needed to destroy Jay's cell phone back at the not-abandoned house, so there was video going around of Lucifer entering Sam's body and killing the two boys. It had spread, and most people with a news station had seen it. Crowley's quiet gesture of making antlers on either side of his head was possibly the only thing keeping Sam from completely freaking out.

Not long after that discovery, Lucifer renegotiated the terms of their contract, leaving Sam all on his own to avoid being seen in the daytime. Since autumn was getting closer, it also left Lucifer with the larger part of the day again. As Sam sighed heavily and tried to start getting used to the idea, Crowley gestured with his head toward the landscape outside the window, and Sam understood. At least there'd be sunlight.

When Lucifer zapped all of them outside Dean's camp to stay for a while, before leaving again, they followed Chuck to Dean's office, and Dean greeted Sam with a harsh look and a shake of his head before walking away. It was everything Sam had expected, but it still hurt like Hell. Sam had been to Hell, and he could actually say that. Crowley reached into the pink pocket of his pig kigurumi, though, and retrieved the amulet, the one Sam had given Dean so long ago, which had, according to Crowley, been dubbed the Samulet by fans of the _Supernatural_ books. Crowley slipped the cord of the Samulet around his neck, displaying it proudly as a silent fuck you to Dean, trying not to seem too much of a fangirl all the while. 

Crowley displayed the Samulet even after changing, and Sam displayed his angel-seeking amulet similarly. Cas noticed them both when he stuck his head into the cabin and took in the sight of his friends. He was fresh from a mission, sweaty, stubbly, curious, and when Meg turned toward the door, he suddenly froze and stared.

"Howdy, Clarence."

"Meg! Did...Lucifer?"

"Yeah, he did. All access pass to life on Earth. You're letting the heat in. Come in."

"This is, um," Cas said, looking around, "mine."

"It's nice. We were just about to get our drink on," Meg said, toasting the air with her glass. Cas took the glass she offered him, his own glass, and let her fill it with his alcohol. 

"I have a plan, about Michael," Cas told them, looking around as he took a swig. "A spell, to get Michael out of your brother." Cas paused, reached into his pocket, pulling out a large piece of paper with notes in Enochian. 

Sam took the paper from Cas, trying to read it. 

"What's it say?" Meg asked Cas.

"Well, the first step is gathering the herbs and other ingredients," Cas explained. "We can take care of that, with Lucifer's help. That's not a problem."

"Blood of Adam's blood," Sam read. "Also not a problem."

"We also need the tears of an angel, some of Adam's DNA, and," Cas hesitated.

"What?" Meg pressed.

"A piece of...Heaven?" Sam narrowed his eyes at the scribbles.

Crowley reached for the paper. "For God's sake, Sam." He read, "A piece of _Adam's_ Heaven." He frowned. "Not like that's gonna be hard to find or anything," he scoffed. He handed the page back to Sam, looking worried.

"It will be difficult," Cas confirmed, tipping his head back and draining his glass. 

"But, hey. If anyone can pull this off, it's you idiots, right?" Meg said.

Crowley nudged Sam and smiled slightly. 

Things seemed to be looking up. Though, it still stung when dinner time came and Dean wouldn't even meet Sam's eyes from across the cramped room.

***

"I'm surprised you're being so lenient with Crowley," Cas said when Crowley left the table to talk to Faith about the fallen angel activity a few miles out. Before he left, Sam had slipped the angel amulet off and handed it to him; he didn't expect to see the two of them back any time soon.

"Yeah, well," Meg admitted, "the tough approach isn't going well right now. "I'm not sure what to do. I'd really just like to carve him up like the pig he is, but he's making it a hassle." She glanced at Sam. "No offense, Sam."

Sam silently watched her, understanding that she had a right to be upset, and to want Crowley to pay. He nodded slightly.

Meg went on. "He's lost a lot of weight, and he just sort of looks at me with this look on his face, like all flinchy and deflated." She curled her lip, shook her head. "And when I was doing this number," she said, squeezing her hand into a fist in front of her, "I had him coughing up too much blood to try to talk to me, but he bowed down on the ground in front of me, right? He just laid there. Suddenly, I'm the bad guy. He's impossible, seriously. This should be my turn to give him just a _fraction_ of what he gave me, but, what was it Crowley once said, 'Where's the fun in clobbering a wet ball of fur'? So, I think he's doing this on purpose."

Sam stared at the table for a little while. He'd seen his blood change Crowley. He'd seen Crowley start to find his humanity again.

"You have to at least admit his power levels aren't what they once were," Cas said, and Sam looked up again at that.

"Yeah, Cas. But lack of power doesn't mean he's suddenly, say, Sam. Demons aren't the only ones who rape and kill."

"That's true," Cas admitted.

Angela tapped Sam on the shoulder, and he turned to her. "It's about time, Sam," she said, no longer hesitant to interrupt him, even for unpleasant things. 

Sam glanced outside at the last light of the sun. "Right." He sighed. "Do you wanna do the honors? Let's, uh," he gestured to the door.

"What?" Meg asked. 

"Demon power shake. Most of our reserves went up with the base. I'm sorry, Angela," Sam said.

"It's for Lucifer, Sam," Meg said. "She doesn't mind."

***

"You're hiding from your brother," Angela said with concern. "I mean, _every_ human would find this weird, but he's been cold to you. Aren't you supposed to be close? Crowley said you were."

Sam sighed. "Angela?" he joked. "Less talking, more bleeding."

*** 

"Crowley?" Lucifer said, standing next to Meg. "You're still fixated on him? He's not even here right now."

Meg moved over slightly, patting the seat. "You can sit, if you want. Yeah, I'm still talking about him."

"He's not faking the change. Sam is...potent." Her eyes widened. She blinked. Lucifer sat down next to her. "Crowley's just really, genuinely that pathetic now. He still needs to pay, for what he's done to me, for what he's done to you. But he's not making things harder for you on purpose."

Meg lowered her head a little.

Lucifer cut off Sam's senses and left him alone in the back of his mind. "I'll make him pay, if you want," he offered. "You've earned it."

"Aren't you a little busy?" Meg asked with amusement. "Michael's on your tail."

"Your faith has earned you this, Meg," Lucifer said. "He's scared of me. It should work. What did you have in mind?"

"I want him to understand what he did to me. I want him to know. It's the only way I can work with him."

Lucifer nodded. "I need to see for myself, Meg."

Meg hesitated, glancing at Cas, who looked worried for multiple reasons. "We have to do this in private, then, so Cas can't screw it up," she joked, but she rested a hand on the one Cas had on the table to reassure him before she stood and let Lucifer take her to a place well out of the way.

***

Lucifer gently stroked her hair as she slept an angel-induced sleep on the bed they hadn't paid for. And he tried not to look troubled.

Vaguely, he could feel Sam getting restless. If he was doing something particularly gruesome, he liked to keep Sam out of it. Oftentimes, he would keep Sam's world blank when he beat up on Crowley. Sam cared so much about Crowley he didn't deserve to see what Crowley had done to Meg.

Tapping into Meg's mind had caused Lucifer to remember some of the Cage, though, which didn't feel very good, especially not so soon after hearing the anger in Michael's voice when the headquarters was being destroyed.

Lucifer wondered if Sam would be open to talking about the Cage with him. Not in an accusatory way, but in a real, actual discussion about that four score and century they'd spent in lockdown together.

Maybe someday. 

He was curious about what Sam remembered. Cas had taken some of the memories, the ones that had flared up and caused Sam so much trouble. It was truly regrettable. Maybe Sam would at least let him have a peek. Because Lucifer could see into most of Sam's mind at will, but Sam still had his secrets, protected, huddled-around, kept and dusted and private.

It should have worried him more, Lucifer, that Sam had the ability to keep things from him, but it was kind of nice all the same. It was kind of like they were actually building trust. It reminded him how strong Sam was, how he deserved Lucifer's affections, how maybe Lucifer had a boundary he couldn't cross out there, somewhere in the world, like all the years he'd had nothing but himself and the boundaries of the Cage.

Lucifer checked on Crowley and Faith to make sure they were on task. All the while, he observed Crowley, thought about the things Meg had shown him, fiddled around with a couple possibilities.

When he returned to Meg's side, she was having a nightmare. He stepped into it, shivering at the reality in the new perspective, like the two dimensions of a film becoming three, but so much more grave than that. He comforted her as well as he knew how, and was surprised when she relaxed. 

He decided that the night shift was a good thing, and that maybe he could comfort Sam, if Sam would just open up to him.


	16. Sightseeing is Believing ("during their morning ritual")

A bird chirped outside the window. A man Sam had admitted he was in love with was curled up next to him, radiating heat. And they had the whole day to do whatever they liked.

The last time Sam had felt safe in a morning routine had been before Metatron's spell brought Lucifer and Michael up from the ground. The angels that had fallen from Heaven had made things chaotic for Dean and Cas, while Crowley had tried to stick by Sam's side on the research angle and Kevin had avoided them all.

Cas and Dean had maintained that Kevin couldn't be allowed to leave the "team" until things settled down, and though Sam and Crowley hadn't liked the sound of that, Sam had been dying, so where was the point in arguing? Dean was hard enough to argue with when you had the energy to care.

As Sam's health had further declined, Lucifer had started to appear in his dreams. Though pleas sounded from all sides for Sam to let himself be helped through his weakened state, he kept quiet about the dreams, lest he scare them all, lest they draw away from him when he was barely holding onto the will to live as it was. He'd hoped his dream Lucifer, different than the one who'd kept him up for days, was the random hallucination of a dying man and nothing more sinister. He'd hoped it would all be manageable, silly, okay.

At the time, Crowley had been suffering from unsettling dreams of his own, and he thought he understood, though Sam knew that no one really could have. Well, maybe Cas could have, but Cas was busy learning how to be human.

Sam hadn't allowed himself the luxury of assuming Lucifer was real.

Birds had been chirping the morning they'd taken Sam out to the lakeside to sit in the sun. That was the morning Lucifer had found him. That was the last morning the sun hadn't been a reminder of the morning star and all his influence, his drama, his shine.

Crowley stirred a little, and Sam shifted to get a good look at the soft expression he wore as he slept. Lucifer hadn't worked him too hard, it seemed. Maybe Lucifer wasn't quite as cold as he'd once been. Maybe he was thawing out.

Sam wanted to watch Crowley sleep until the birds stopped singing, but he drifted off again before that happened.

***

"What makes you think it's still standing?" Sam asked. It seemed like a fragile place to Sam, like a place from a dream, even though he'd punched holes in its walls and could attest that they'd been very solid. 

"They've told me it is," said Crowley. "So, let's go sneak a peek, before it isn't anymore. The end is nigh, and all that."

"It's just," Sam shook his head, "you'll probably be disappointed."

"Doubt it."

"It looks like every other house here, Crowley. The only memories I really have of it are from when we took care of that poltergeist." 

"Plenty good enough for me," Crowley said honestly. "That was quite a story. Revealing your visions to Dean, saved by Mommy when things got down to the wire. And I'm particularly fond of that psychic."

The corner of Sam's lip raised slightly. "This is a fangirl moment for you. Er, fanboy," Sam accused. "You really like those books."

"And what's not to like?" Crowley asked without a hint of mockery in the tone. 

Sam decided Crowley was worth a 45 minute trip to Lawrence, no matter how disappointing he might find the house, and, subsequently, the boy whose mere existence had set it on fire.

***

The house was way more in-tact than it should have been. Sam sat in the car and stared, actually a little confused. Kansas was typically a hotbed of fallen angel vs demon activity. After all, it was America's center state, and it was where the Winchesters had planted themselves. 

But there was not a scratch, not a fleck of peeled paint on the house, as far as Sam could tell. Not a single hole in the windows, in the roof, the door.

"I'll bet you anything it's been protected," Crowley said fondly. "Historical landmark, in a way, wouldn't you say?" No, Sam wouldn't, but Crowley seemed convinced. "It's lovely. First time seeing it."  

Sam's phone spoke up, interrupting the silence between Crowley's excitement and Sam's quiet puzzle.

"Dean?" Sam finally said.

"Where the hell are you?" Dean growled, and Sam's chest panged at the concern he knew was there. At least Dean wasn't indifferent to him; that always hurt the worst. "You think you can just slink off? You're on lockdown, Sam."

"We're in Lawrence, at the old house. Crowley wanted to see it," Sam said. Having survived without Dean for months, Sam found it easier to stand up to him than he once had. 

"What? You're...what, on tour? Sam, I'm cleaning up _your_ mess."

"Metatron's mess," Sam dared.

"What?"

"Metatron's mess. Or, I know he was a pawn, but it's kind of Cas's mess too. Can we not do this?"

"We'll stop when you start acting responsibly. You need to tell me where you're going when you leave. My camp, my rules. You're on thin ice."

"I'm sorry, Dean." He wasn't. "But Crowley and I are on tour, yeah. That's a good way to put it. We'll be back at least by seven, okay?"

"Or else you're grounded," Dean said, and hung up.

"I think I just got grounded twice," Sam commented as he put his phone away.

"Someone's stressed," Crowley said with a chuckle. He raised his hand and flicked the door to the house unlocked and open. "Shall we?" He offered his arm. Sam rolled his eyes and put some distance between them.

***

"Know what I'd like to hit next on our tour?" 

"What?"

"Stull Cemetery. 'Bout ten miles away. I'm game if you are."

Sam went very still, looking around the room his mother had died in. An abandoned desk with a few dusty piles of paper sat in the space his crib had once occupied. "Really?" he glanced at Crowley. "Why would you want to go there?"

Crowley rested a hand on Sam's lower back, "We don't have to, Moose. I'm just curious. But it's your life, and not mine."

Sam carefully looked over at Crowley, trying to assess his motives, his sincerity, his loyalty.

***

"So, they crawled out here too," Sam asked, "just like I did?"

"That's the tale, anyway. You should ask Lucifer for his version. Lord knows I’m not going to."

A sudden flap of wings had them turning around.

“Great,” huffed Crowley, fully expecting the archangel to have arrived to share anyway.

"Sam. Crowley."

"I thought you were dead!" Crowley blurted out as he met the gaze of his old flame, his features betraying his shock. He glanced at Sam to make sure he was seeing her too. "I mean. I'm glad you're not, but...this makes no sense."

"Does any of this make sense?” she pointed out. “I was brought back. I'm trying to keep an eye on the area. What are you two up to?" She eyed Crowley curiously in turn. She looked between him and Sam, at the lack of distance between them, frowning lightly but not necessarily in disgust.

"Sight-seeing, Revisiting the past. Sam's past, anyway.”

“How altruistic.” It was more sassy than cutting. Sam snorted in agreement. The changes in Crowley still threw him every once in a while.

Naomi’s gaze softened a little. "Nice work, Sam. Now, to business: Do you two know where I could find Lucifer?"

"Um. We switched," Sam explained. "He has nights now."

"I see."

“We have no fucking clue. And we like it that way,” Crowley explained.

Sam hesitated for a moment before asking, "You're not working for Michael, are you?"

She laughed at the idea. "No. And I wouldn't. I _am_ working with Gabriel, but on the same level."

"Wait. Gabriel? He's alive?"

"He'd hidden himself. Apparently well enough to fool even the Winchesters." She glanced around. "Whatever you're doing here, revisiting, you should make this short, Sam. This isn't a good place to be hanging around. There's a...bad energy. I can feel it."

"Will do. Uh. Glad you're okay." Naomi tilted her head slightly at that. "Before you go, I'd like to ask a favor, if I could." Sam glanced at Crowley, and after a moment Crowley figured out what he meant, and nodded. "We're working on something to get Michael out of his vessel."

"Adam," she said thoughtfully. "Your brother. I met him once, when Zachariah was holding him."

"That's the one," said Sam. "We need some of Adam's DNA, for the spell. You think you could swing that?"

She narrowed her eyes slightly in thought, then seemed to understand what he meant. "It's possible that I could...swing that. The spell, will it...damage Michael?" she asked.

"No," Crowley said. 

After a moment spent trying to decide how honest Crowley was being, Naomi said, "You'd better hope it doesn't, for your sake," before she flew away.

***

“The very idea of 'bad energy' here, of all places. Terrifying. I've got chills," Crowley teased.

With Crowley’s words sounding far away, before he really registered what he was doing, Sam walked to the place where the ground had opened up for him twice, where it had opened up for Lucifer and Michael to crawl out of their Cage. He knelt, let his eyes close as his hair blew out of his control in the wind. 

Crowley went silent. Sam’s eyes opened, and he rested his palms on the grass, absently pushing some of the blades apart from each other like he was parting it, making a path. No, he tugged a little more, like he was looking for something, needing something. Buried treasure; some sort of hole or scar, some indication that the Cage had been real.

"Sam?" Sam turned to look at Crowley, then laughed at himself briefly when he saw the worry there. Setting his hands back down at his sides as he knelt, sitting up straight, he sighed. He glanced up at the clouds in the sky, a few of which were blocking the sun for the moment. Finally, he let his eyes trail over a few of the gravestones. Others who had been buried in the same place. Who had never risen. Only he and the archangels had.

As Crowley watched uncertainly, hopeful that Sam would get up and they could just heed Naomi’s warning after all, Sam went very still. Except for his hair and his shirt moving as they caught the breeze, he was eerily motionless. 

“Not good,” Crowley muttered. Sam made a soft sound of surprise, possibly in response, but maybe not, and blinked absently, the world trickling away from him.

Memories flashed before him, vivid, as much proof as a scar marring the ground would have been. He didn't hear Crowley call his name for a second time with more urgency than before. He heard fire and ice crackle. He heard his own screams, and Lucifer's screams, and two brothers fighting with untold ferocity for a hundred years, but he didn't hear Crowley.


	17. Whatever the Weather ("spooning")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains **references to abuse**.

The Cage was ice. The Cage was fire, with sand and water for drowning, for burning; it was lava, was tornado and rain, its endless turns and loops like tricks a confused rabbit might endure in the confines of a smug top hat.

The Cage was smoke and fog until they had no distinction, it was the shiny glass of icicles and frozen ponds. It sizzled and it sang like trees in the wind with creatureless branches. The mournful cry of the wind spoke like the anger of angels, the creak of wood protested like Sam's soul, the darkness surprised them and choked them, the blinding light illuminated the sickness around them, hammering their remaining freedom into guilt, and the noise, the silence, both were chilling, both wrong.

The Cage stretched beyond all imagination. The Cage stopped abruptly. Sometimes, it had walls. Michael liked to beat at them with his fists until he tired himself out. Lucifer didn't bother.

Michael said the Cage wasn't fair, but Sam hadn't jumped in for the sake of fairness. 

Sometimes, the breeze would soften. Sometimes the sand would cool. Sometimes the ice would melt, and the trees would quiet, and new fields might open up, not on fire but blowing in the breeze. Fields full of flowers, even sunflowers, and clouds in the sky that made shapes.

And that was how Sam would know everything was alright, and that he could relax. 

Because Sam remembered invisible chains, and strength, and fear and flinching, fear coming from him and fear coming from the archangels. He could see the way Lucifer would shudder and the way Michael would cry, and could feel the lost faith all around like it was palpable, but not lost in Sam, no, glowing in Sam still. Sam remembered the darkness that swelled like the light swelled, and the feel of pain from creatures who understood human anatomy enough to want to exploit it.

The way the brothers had fought, tooth and nail, scream for scream, with gilt tricks and guilt trips and worry, had given way to a sinister sort of partnership that had Lucifer crying as much as Michael had at first.

Above all, they'd been brothers, and partners, and Sam had thought of himself and Dean. That had kept him going, and so had his faith, his biggest trap, his greatest sense of security. And he'd been hurt, and it somehow always surprised him. He wasn't punished at first. But, then he was. 

Like a crescendo and a decrescendo, Lucifer enjoyed it more and more, and then Lucifer enjoyed it less and less, and Michael had been there. There was something familiar about Michael, and he was so like Dean in so many ways. Even the boredom. He hated being cooped up more than Lucifer did. Granted, Lucifer had had the practice. Lucifer had learned to bide his time.

Sam found himself blinking, staring straight ahead with a shiver, and then he noticed the arms around him, the body tugging him close, the gentle calling of his name. He lashed out. "Get off!" He cried out. 

Because the softness, the cooing of his name, he had that in the back of his head too. He'd tried to push it down, pat it down like dirt on a re-filled grave. He'd wanted no part of those memories, with Lucifer so close. He'd hoped Cas had taken most of that away, the way Lucifer had fit against him, the way he'd felt appreciated in turns with the way he'd felt used, their relationship changing like the Cage changed.

Sam stood, turned, ready to punch Lucifer's smug face, stone-hard archangel or not, when he saw Crowley fumbling on the ground with his arms out in front of him in defense, and Sam looked around, and he blinked.

And he felt the breeze, remembering Lucifer humiliating him, touching him, possessing him in every possible way, as he pleased, as he thought he should, as the situation called for, as he cared to.

Sam turned away from Crowley and shuddered. And offered nothing.

And the sun moved in the sky.

Finally Crowley said, "Sam?" And Sam didn't want to be in the graveyard anymore.

Sam let the shaky hand offered to him invite his own to join with it. He let himself be led. His hand slid away once they were by the car. When Crowley turned the radio on, he turned it off, and lowered the window, and looked outside, at the vastness.

He was still looking at the expanse of nature when the sigil-covered car came to its final stop at the camp. 

He was still looking when he heard Dean and Crowley talking. Dean sounded angry like the wind. Crowley sounded frightened like the creaking of a tree bent toward breaking. He sounded creatureless.

Sam was silent, and wrong, a frozen pond, an icicle, a sunflower with no sun, not anymore.

Dean yanked the door to the car open and hauled Sam out of the car. Sam didn't meet his gaze; he didn't care to.

Sam remembered Lucifer's hands, and Michael's anger. Like ice and fire. 

Michael had been like Dean, too much like Dean. Bored, demanding, desperate. Michael had pounded at the walls, then blamed Lucifer for their predicament. At least, that was what Sam thought he remembered. Sam couldn't remember Michael laying a finger on him. He could only remember Michael overpowering Lucifer, and Lucifer blaming Sam. 

Sam could also remember Dean overpowering him, though not usually in a physical sense. Sam could feel Dean's grip on his arm and shoulder, herding rather than guiding, but Sam could barely feel any pain, not when phantom aches were licking at his bones and his flesh, every part, even the most sacred ones. 

Sam barely registered the change from grass to two different types of hard flooring. Sam ignored Dean's questioning. Dean wasn't screaming like an angel, only growling like Dean. Sam could afford to ignore him.

Sam sat at the edge of the bed, recognizing Dean's agitation, knowing in his ripped and popped and rebuilt heart that a blow was going to come. Dean would try to put some sense into him with force, like force from a human meant something to Sam. He didn't want that to happen, but he expected it, which must have looked like the same thing to Dean.

Dean was gone. Sam blinked.

Crowley was standing by the wall at the far corner of the room, hesitating, sniffing.

Sam met his gaze. It was anything but a staring contest, though both were afraid to blink for a moment, afraid to lose sight of each other, afraid to lose the moment, lest things grow too bad too quickly and eat them both up.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, pulling the words from himself, only to recognize he'd spoken Enochian and not English. Still, Crowley stopped sniffing, and nodded.

Crowley made himself scarce. The part of Sam with the will enough to say anything at all was grateful.

Sam reached down and tilted the angel wings on the pendant around his neck in order to get a good look at them. He thought about melting them. He thought about throwing them down and just stepping in hopes he'd do some damage. 

He thought about dropping them outside, burying them, hanging them up in a tree and leaving them there.

He thought about making them an anonymous gift to Michael's army.

As he touched them, he realized he would do none of those things. But he took the amulet off and hid it under the mattress hastily like a dirty secret. 

He eased himself onto his back, looking up at the dotless ceiling. 

He didn't register that he was humming at first. Lucifer had hummed sometimes, old songs Sam couldn't possibly have known in his life on Earth, more often than not. It was one of those, one of the things Lucifer used to hum to soothe Sam.

Sam felt only vaguely disgusted by the discovery.

When Sam's stomach rumbled, he ignored its pleas like his had been ignored, and he found a pen on the wooden floor, and in the dying light of the sun he scratched pathetic angel warding on the door in hopes that Lucifer would stay away like he had when he'd seen Crowley's hopeful lines of chalk so many nights before.

Sometimes, Sam wished he didn't know what hope was.

He dug the pen into the wood of the door with more force than necessary, wondering idly if it might make a noise of protest.


	18. Get Away ("doing something together")

The absurdity of the fact that birds were chirping the next morning overwhelmed Sam for a quiet moment. He'd spent all night remembering and dreaming, only to have the morning greet him just the same as it had the day before. He wasn't sure whether the sameness, the evidence of the world moving on while he was struggling to, cheapened his memories of the Cage or not. He wasn't even sure whether he should care.

Sam's stomach rumbled, motivating him into finally getting up and leaving the room before the birds stopped their singing. Dressed in the same clothes as the day before, which were slightly dusty from the abandoned house he'd once lived in and streaked with mud from the graveyard he'd jumped into without the intention of living on Earth any longer, Sam left the cabin to go to the mess hall.

Only to find himself ambushed by Dean. 

"Sam? Sam!"

"Dean," he breathed. Dean was hugging him. Sam sighed and let an earnest smile form, glad Dean couldn't see it. 

"Sam," Dean breathed back, a soft treatment of the name, not a growl, not a command. Sam sighed again.

"C'mon." Dean pulled back. "I'm makin' you breakfast, whether you want it or not."

Sam nodded. Dean put a protective arm around him and led the way. It felt good. It felt right. Sam seated himself on one of the benches, facing away from Dean as Dean bustled around between the fridge and the stove. A part of him didn't feel ready to watch Dean do something as normal as making breakfast, or as domestic as manning the stove. They hadn't exactly been on the best of terms since Lucifer had arrived.

Sam watched the trees outside blow gently in the breeze, his eyes following the curves of their bends, the movement of their leaves. "You know, Naomi's alive," he said after a while.

"What?" Dean turned around, watching Sam's back.

"Yeah. Apparently, she was brought back, and she's working with Gabriel. She's going to get Adam's DNA for us."

"Gabriel? _Gabriel_ Gabriel?"

"One and only," Sam murmured. "Just been hiding, apparently." 

"What a dick," Dean said.

Sam could agree with that. 

"So," Dean said. "Our blood, and Adam's DNA. Two down. I mean, if anyone's capable, it's her. And then we just need a piece of his Heaven, and to make an angel cry."

"Right," Sam said, tilting his head slightly as he watched a pretty brown bird land on the branches of one of the trees.

"How about fallen angel? Will that work? Cause, lemme tell you, I can make a fallen angel cry."

Sam made a face, trying not to let his mind imagine Dean doing the sorts of things necessary to make a fallen angel weep. "I'm not sure," he said honestly, glancing over his shoulder. "Not sure I'd risk it, though." Dean looked a little disappointed. "We have at least three options, angels who might do it for the right price. Naomi, Gabriel, and Lucifer."

There was a knock at the door, then it creaked open slowly. "Sam?" Faith called. She stepped into the room.

"Oh. Hello there," Dean said, eyeing her, and Sam sighed.

"Demon," Sam said, and Dean stopped drooling, for the most part, though not entirely. "What's wrong?"

***

"Ladies? We need to come in."

Angela appeared in the doorway, looking up at Dean. Then, she glanced at Sam, and looked away guiltily. She settled for looking at Dean again. "Yeah? Why?"

Dean pushed his way past her into the cabin, looking around. Meg was doing her best to act natural, and so was Crowley, who had tears in his eyes. His cheek had been slapped, hard, and more than once, but that seemed to be the extent of the visible physical damage, as far as Dean could tell.

"Meg?" Dean said. "You need to leave him alone now."

"Like he left me alone?"

"Oh, I get it. Believe me."

Sam cautiously stepped into the cabin after Faith, and Crowley sprang up from the chair he was sitting in and ran to him, looking up, pleading. Sam pulled him close.

"No, he didn't leave you alone," Dean said. "But this is my camp. And you see what he's wearing? That's mine too. We don't do this, not to our own. So stow your crap, Meg."

"Dean," Meg said with a hint of exasperation. "We have an agreement. Even Sam's okay with it."

"Oh, I doubt that," Dean commented, eyeing the way Sam was gripping Crowley and looking close to tears himself.

"Lucifer didn't come back last night," Angela said. "We had plans, but it had to wait because we needed him. We asked Crowley where Lucifer was, and Crowley said he did something."

"Did you?" Dean asked, turning back to look at Crowley.

Crowley shifted his face away from Sam long enough to sigh. He turned a bit, looking over his shoulder. "You two were cornering me. I said that to get you to leave me alone. Did it work? No. I lied, I dug my own hole, now I'm sitting in it. End of story."

"All he does is yank our chain," Angela snorted. "I don't know what to believe."

"Well, believe me," said Sam. "Because I'm the one who asked Lucifer to stay away last night. I needed a break. Hell, I still do." 

Angela and Meg exchanged a glance, then looked at Sam with fear. Sam figured maybe because Lucifer had listened to him. Every once in a while, Sam could call the shots.

Sam shifted Crowley slightly, turning him around, his arms around him still. "You two," Sam told the girls. "This stops. You're not gonna touch him, not anymore. We all have a lot of dues to pay, all of us. But forcing them out of each other...is wrong."

Meg looked at Sam with surprise.

"Okay, Meg?" Sam said with caution. He still wanted her on his side.

"Yeah," Meg said slowly. "Actually, I think I get what you mean. Maybe," she said with a swallow, turning her eyes to Crowley, "I'll keep any humiliation light, from now on. Fun stuff. Laughs."

Sam tightened his grip on Crowley. "If I say back off, though, I mean back off."

"Okay," said Meg.

Crowley nodded in agreement before fiddling with the Samulet, looking down at the way it fit in his grasp, at the way it caught the light.

***

"You hurt?" Dean asked, sitting Crowley down in his cabin.

Crowley shied away from Dean and Dean's gaze, but he glanced at Sam. "Mainly my pride, what little of it I've got. My...feelings, I suppose. Most of me's right as rain. Even if it wasn't, you know Lucifer'll fix me up when he gets back, so he can start afresh."

"No," Sam said.

"What?"

"I don't want Lucifer to touch you." Crowley looked at him in surprise. 

"Well, it's not exactly like you can stop him," Crowley said softly.

"Well, I can try."

"And piss him off? Don't bother."

"Don't worry about me," Sam said. "I can't just let it go. Not now. And I'm sorry I ever did. I'm sorry, Crowley. Crowley," Sam said, reaching up to touch Crowley's cheek, hesitating, then boldly making contact and stroking.

"What's with you two?" Dean interrupted.

Sam flattened his hand against Crowley's cheek, cupping it, giving Dean a glance.

"And, hey, is that mine?" Dean reached for the amulet Crowley was still holding.

"Dean, you rejected that thing twice," said Sam, shaking his head. "He wanted it. It's like...a piece of history to him."

"Come again?"

Sam sighed, giving Crowley's cheek one last pat, pulling away. "Okay, you know how they sell the props and costumes from, say, _Lord of the Rings_? It's like that."

"It's not like that," Dean said.

"It's a little like that."

"It's like that," confirmed Crowley. "Just ask some of the angels or demons who've read the things. Or monsters."

"Monsters have read the books?" Sam asked.

"Oh yeah. The ones that read, anyway." Crowley slipped the cord of the amulet over his head, holding the thing out to Dean. "Here."

Sam put his hand on Crowley's outstretched one, saying, "Dean, I'm with Crowley.  _With_ with him. And if you want the amulet back from him, you'll have to ask him for it."

"You're what? Like...dating him?"

"I'm not sure why you're surprised," Crowley pointed out. "I'm not here to come between you." He shook Sam's hand off his, dangling the Samulet in front of Dean, who eyed it as it swung in the air before him.

"Don't need it," Dean finally said. "I just need _you_ , Sam, not some amulet that can't even find God."

Sam thought about telling Dean that Lucifer had said it was working after all, but he settled for nodding, grateful Dean still wanted him. 

"Is he good to you?" Dean asked with a hint of worry.

"Apart from you, he's the best to me," Sam said. And Dean relaxed. And Crowley smiled shyly.

"Put that back on," Dean told Crowley. "What is it, like, proof you two are going steady?"

Sam rolled his eyes, watching as Crowley put it back on. And Crowley said proudly, "Yes. I suppose it is."

***

It started with the three of them, Sam, Crowley, and Dean, playing a game of Monopoly. It was Crowley's idea, and he already looked to be winning at about six minutes in. 

By the time Naomi showed up with some of Adam's hair in a vial, half of Dean's camp was spread out with board games, poker, and Twister.

"What...what's going on?" Naomi asked Cas with suspicion after appearing.

"Game night," Cas explained, looking up from a strange position on the Twister mat. "Hey, is that Adam's hair?"

"Yes," Naomi said uncertainly. "Isn't that...uncomfortable?"

"It's just a game," Cas explained, shifting into a more normal position, reaching up to take the vial from her, extricating himself from between Meg and Chuck.

"Hey," Dean called to Naomi after cursing at Crowley for collecting another $50 from him. "You think if you catch any angels crying, you could snag us some tears?"

"For you, Dean?" she said, and he looked hopeful for a moment. "No. Not for free, anyway. But if you can get Lucifer to help me keep an eye on Metatron, I can. I might be able to get close enough to Michael, but Metatron has eyes on me."

"You got yourself a deal," Sam called. "We'll do our best."

Naomi offered Sam and Cas each a nod before she flew away.

"Cas," said Meg, "put that thing down and get back over here. Chuck's about to fall over."

Sam glanced at Chuck, who looked wobbly on his arms and knees, and watched as Chuck suddenly slid onto his back, pressing his eyes with his hands and groaning. 

"New vision!" a girl in one of the camp uniforms exclaimed, throwing her cards onto the table and standing. Sam swallowed. 

People started gathering around Chuck. "Space," Cas said, shooing people back a little. "Give him some space."

Finally, the lines of Chuck's face relaxed. He'd lost consciousness. Dean and Cas took him to his room to sleep it off.

"Sam, your turn to roll," Crowley said after Dean left with Chuck. "Let's move this along. I'm so close to beating the both of you."

Sam looked around at the board, at their money, at Crowley's stack of property. "I give up."

"You can't do that," Crowley protested.

Sam raised a brow. "I just did."

"Well, I don't _want_ you to do that. Where's your sense of competition, Moose?"

"Hidden underneath my sense of when to cut my losses." Sam tilted his head. "Say, Crowley?"

Crowley sobered. "What is it, Sam?"

"Come with me."

"What?" Crowley followed Sam, who waved goodbye to Meg and Faith. He had his questions, but he held his tongue for a bit, observing. Sam grabbed what little they had of their clothing as well as some provisions and put them in the trunk of the sigil-covered car.

"Need a break, I gather?"

"Something like that," Sam said.

"Well, where are we going? This could be a stupid move, Sam," Crowley said, watching as Sam approached and leaned in close, the sunlight lighting him up beautifully. Crowley was very distracted by the sight of him. He forgot to breathe for a moment.

Sam kissed him gently on the lips. "Let's go," Sam said.

And, in a sigil-covered car going Sam-knew-where on fairly empty streets, they went.


	19. Return on Investments ("in formal wear")

"I swear to God, Sam," Dean's voice growled over the line.

"Yeah, well," Crowley said in answer, "I doubt he's listening, but that's your prerogative."

"Crowley. Put him on. _Now_."

Dean's voice held an urgency Crowley didn't have the heart to ignore. With a sigh, Crowley said, "I'll patch you through."

"Dean?" Sam tried.

"I leave for one freakin' second, and you just take off?"

"Yeah. I'm...this is important. But, I'm sorry. That I didn't say anything."

"Sam. You weren't _talking_ last night. You wouldn't even look at me. And now you elope with _Crowley_ when your face is plastered all over the news as America's new favorite meat puppet? This is not good, Sam." 

"You're right," Sam said. "It's not. You wanna know where we're going? The bunker."

"The bunker?!"

"Safest place on Earth safe enough for you?" Sam bit out. "Look, we'll be back...when we're back. Soon." 

"Sam," Dean started, but Sam handed the phone back to Crowley.

"Dean," Crowley said softly. "I think little brother is done talking. I'll keep you updated, alright? He's in good hands, I swear. And he's," he hesitated. "He's not avoiding _you_. He's avoiding Lucifer."

"Yeah, well...." Dean let out a little huff of breath and hung up after a pause he wasn't sure how to fill. Crowley set Sam's phone back in the cup holder.

"The bunker. So, that's the plan." He watched Sam for a moment, who didn't take his eyes off the road.

"Even for you, this is a bit short-sighted. I mean, Sam. Darling. You can't just go back on a deal like this, not without consequences. Mind who the deal is  _with_."

"I can _do_ whatever the hell I want," Sam said hotly.

"True." Crowley's voice was soft when he tried again. "Sam? Moose...."

"Sorry," Sam breathed out, sighing. "It's just...you don't know what the Cage was like. You don't know what _he_ was like. I've got all these memories in my head, but they're twisted together, and they're not all there, and they're...kinda...bigger than me." He swallowed, letting go of the wheel with his right hand, clenching it into a fist, relaxing it, letting the fist loosen but not die. 

"I feel like my skin is on fire, you know?" said Sam. "And like he's...right next to me, with his voice ringing in my head," he shelved his fingers up into hair, tugged, then slowly let go like his hand was trying to linger, "in every part of me. Or, or like I'm full of...light, this _heavy_ light, and it's," he sighed, "like it's too much and I'm. I sound crazy," he said, voice going blank. "Hell, I _feel_ crazy. So I'm going, I'm just driving, somewhere he can't get to me. I need time, to deal. And I gotta be alone to do it. Except, I don't do well alone. Bad track record."

Crowley remembered reading "Mystery Spot". He remembered reading "I Know What You Did Last Summer". He remembered what Samuel had told him about his grandson's actions while soulless. He'd kept an eye on Sam himself after he'd taken everyone from Sam, including the prophet and Meg.

Sam lowered his head slightly, gripping at the wheel again. "But I have you, right? I brought someone I trust." Chancing a quick glance at Crowley, he kept his eyes on the road, lowering his voice to add, "If you want us to turn around—if _you_ want us to, not Dean, not Lucifer—we'll turn around. Just. I just." He reached out with his restless hand again, finding Crowley's.

Crowley watched Sam drive for a moment, reaching over with his right hand to pat the back of the hand curled around his in the silence. After a few miles, he offered, "Well. I can't say I'm excited to piss off the boss, or to threaten a contract. But this is your choice, Moose, not mine. And just because I don't think this plan is the wisest, that doesn't mean you don't have my full support." Sam's hand clenched around his. "I'm strapped in for the ride, you'll notice," Crowley went on, "for better or for worse. But it's gonna be for the better. You'll see."

Crowley politely pretended not to notice when his honesty seemed to choke Sam up and make him cry as they drove. He also pretended not to notice when Sam's hand pulled away to wipe at Sam's eyes and never came back, though it seemed to want to.

***

"Dude, that's your third yawn," Sam pointed out, voice scratchy with cry-worn amusement. "Why don't you go to sleep for a little while?" 

"Don't want to. It's Kansas in the daylight, and right now we're as exposed as...anything in Kansas."

"True," Sam sighed.

As if the universe was trying to prove Crowley's point, it wasn't half an hour before they drove past a handful of demons and fallen angels who were fighting. The ground trembled underfoot and the wind picked up around the group, pulling up grass and flowers and little rocks and turning them in the air.

Unless they'd been ordered to care, most of the angels took to ignoring humans. Sam and Crowley at first didn't see issue with slowing down for a moment and having a look. One of the angels was definitely being chased by something. He got knocked over, and flailed, pulling out an angel blade that glinted in the sunlight, stabbing at what looked to Sam to be thin air.

"Hellhounds!" Crowley said with interest. He rolled down the window slightly. The growling and barking could be heard, as well as the whoosh of air and the clanging of knives.

A few of those fighting started to glance over at the car. A sigil-covered car, though not an uncommon occurrence, was usually not so effective in its powers as the car they'd taken from Dean's camp. One of the women glanced at the car and stepped away from the fighting for a moment. 

"Oh, not good," Crowley muttered with a wince. "Okay, go. Go!"

Sam sped a little, but tried not to seem like he was in more of a hurry to get away than he should have been. When they were about four miles away from the group that had been fighting, there came a thud on the roof. It was the distinct sound of a body landing. Sam grunted and swerved the car, trying to throw whoever was on the roof off, but the grip was strong. 

In the next moment, the weight was pushed off by an angel who apparently still had wings, which was rare but not unheard of. In the rearview, Sam saw two beings hit the ground before rolling around, clawing, fighting.

"Quick. Faster. Just, go. Go!" Crowley said with urgency.

Sam's heart was still pounding when an all-too-familiar angel appeared on the street before them, breathless and smirking.

"Really?!" Complained Crowley as the car screeched to a halt in front of the angel. "Bugger. We shouldn't be here. We have the two most wanted faces in existence."

Cautiously, Sam opened the car door.

"Hiya, Sammy!" said the angel.

Crowley reached into the glove compartment for the angel gun, but Sam looked over. He leaned back into the car and steadied Crowley's hand with his own. 

"Easy," said Sam. "It's just Gabriel."

***

Sam looked back down the road, not expecting the demon to bother them again. He turned to Gabriel. "Uh. Hi. What are you doing here?"

"Checking up on you lunks, for Dean," Gabriel said easily as Crowley got out of the car on the other side. "Seems he thinks you're about to snap or something, Sam."

"Well," Sam said awkwardly, "I'm...not."

"I know. I've seen you snap before."

"Um. Guess so," Sam said, remembering the feel of the stake as he'd stabbed it into what he'd only been _pretty sure_ wasn't Bobby Singer. "Thanks, I guess. For helping us out back there."

"I know. I'm a huge help. And I'm not done. But, first things first. Who's this guy?" Gabriel motioned to Crowley.

"You can call me Crowley," answered Crowley, offering his hand. "Ex-king of Hell. Well...ex-demon. Almost. For all intents and purposes, anyway."

Gabriel ignored the hand. "And the one who gave the boys the Colt, right?" He glanced between Crowley and Sam. "Among other things. I've read about you."

"You've read the _Supernatural_ books?" Sam asked.

"Actually, I'm what you might call an investor," Gabriel said. "Since the beginning. Not that you need to know about that. But, if you want some time away from Lucifer, you don't need to go to the bunker to get it." 

"Oh really?" Sam snorted. "Then where should I go? Another planet?"

"With me. To the future." Gabriel waggled his brows. "It'll be fun."

Crowley and Sam eyed Gabriel suspiciously.

" _Really_ fun. Not like Trickster stuff. And you get to dress up." He held up his hand in snapping position.

"So, you paid to help the books get published," Crowley said with interest. "How much did you put toward them?"

"The money was the boring part," Gabriel said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Oh? Do tell."

"Just get us out of here first," Sam said with a sigh. 

Gabriel snapped, and as simply as that, Sam and Crowley were in nice, black suits with silk ties. 

"In the future, the _Supernatural_ books blow up in popularity. It's monumental. There are movie adaptations, plays, harp concertos, disco comedies. And there's even an opera or two."

"What in the hell is a disco comedy?" demanded Crowley.

"I got no idea. But it sounds interesting, doesn't it? Put money into that too."

Crowley did look intrigued, but Sam said, "If we watch something about  _Supernatural_ , I've got rules. Nothing embarrassing. Nothing _sad_. Nothing...where Dean...."

"I promise, nothing like that," Gabriel said. "I swear. And, I'm sorry, Sam, for what I put you through." There was a regretful tilt to his mouth as he looked at Sam, and Sam, with some assessing, believed it to be sincere.

***

"Chuck should see all this!" Crowley praised, looking at the posters, then realizing that the statues on the building were _Supernatural_ 's Sam and Dean.

"Oh, trust me, he has. I took him to 'Swan Song' when he finished writing the book."

"Was that a play?"

"A robot ballet."

"What?! Humans and their robots," Crowley shook his head.

"I like robots. They remind me of angels. And of humans, cause you can take 'em apart. I had to fix the Lucifer. He was malfunctioning. I don't think Chuck liked it very much, but I still managed to convince him to write more of the books."

Sam groaned. "Invested is right."

"I like you guys," Gabriel said with a smirk, "and I like entertainment. I like your story, your century. Angels? Most of 'em have no imagination. Like I said—robots. But humans? Millions of fans, billions of ideas. Time changing the meaning of things, keeping it the same. We got a couple options here right in front of us." Gabriel gestured to the front of the ornate building. "We have something that looks like it could be pretty romantic, but a little sad. Or, hold on a second," he said, and disappeared.

Sam and Crowley exchanged a look and wondered what they'd do next if Gabriel died and never had a chance to bring them back.

He popped back, shaking his head. "Second option is out. Touchy subject."

"Touchy how?" Sam asked, almost afraid to.

"An ex of yours dies in it, if you must know." Sam swallowed hard. No, not romantic. "I think maybe a futuristic opera's a bad idea anyway. They're hard to sit through. Come on. I got a better idea."

Gabriel rested a hand on each of their shoulders and transported them into seats at a concert hall. The harpist was just about to play.

***

Gabriel was right about those particular options. They were much better than a tragic opera. Sam and Crowley loosened up with the swells of the beautiful concerto, were moved by the aching quality in the sad parts and the inspiration in the highs. It all started out so peaceful, when all was right with Heaven. Gabriel poofed a program into existence that Sam and Crowley had to hold and look at together. They made best guesses at where the transitions between the parts of Heaven's past were.

And when it was over, when Crowley and Sam were still cheering and clapping and standing in approval like everyone else, Gabriel flapped them all right into the cheering crowd of the rodeo, in plaid and denim instead of suits.

"They just did the whole death in your nursery thing. You and Dean and John are on the road now," Gabriel explained. And the display was actually really fascinating, all the way up through Sam leaving for Stanford. Sam's favorite part was the gun show with a John Winchester teaching a very, very young Dean how to shoot. The kid was really impressive. And it was all that much better when a Bobby came out, shooed John away, and started doing fun things with the shooting instead of strict shows of precision.

Crowley's favorite part of the rodeo was absolutely everything. He nearly cheered himself hoarse.

With a final location and wardrobe change, Sam found himself rolling his eyes a lot during the musical on the screen in the theater, but also laughing his ass off at parts. He didn't usually take to musicals, and disco was definitely not his thing, but he couldn't help but enjoy things like a song where the entire theme was that the Crowley on the screen was running away from the Sam who kept trying to kill him. 

He also liked the opening song about 66 seals where men and women dressed like seals were clapping their costumed hands and barking because, seriously, what the hell. The moment sobered when Sam approached Lilith, though.

The Sam was surprisingly heroic and sincere, clearly trying to save the world, hurt by his brother's words, only cared for by a demon. And this was played pretty nicely, painting Sam in a good light. And when he killed Lilith, the screen went black.

Colored spotlights turned on, signaling a dance sequence where Ruby revealed her true mission. It was camped up enough that it didn't really hurt, and the part where Dean and Sam killed her together and high fived afterward was pretty awesome, considering Dean killed her by ripping open his shirt and causing her to faint.

Most of what Crowley would have called the 5th season was touched on at least briefly, including a song about things being funnier in Enochian, and near the end a singing Impala told the Lucifer-inhabited Sam that he could do anything he put his mind to. As the Impala sang, Everything went hazy, and pink and blue, and tiny little Impalas lined up and chased each other around as the man playing Sam floated in the air. Lucifer reached out his hand, and the two of them held hands and floated together, sort of started synchronized swimming...synchronized floating...in the air, even when they let go.

They started singing about the partnership of the ages, and Sam was just starting to feel uncomfortable with the lyrics about beating Dean up and being M.F.E.O, cleverly-worded as they had been, when the Sam pushed the Lucifer down and stood above him, victorious, and the haziness stopped, and everyone in the theater started to cheer.

And then the Sam started to dance in Skull Cemetery, singing about how disco was forever and so was brotherly love. And bodies rose from the cemetery to join him. And when he opened up the ground, which shot out a rainbow of light, the zombies formed a ring around the hole, and Sam jumped up high, floating in the air mid-jump for a moment, and a halo suddenly appeared attached to his headband, shining with rhinestones in the spotlight, and his hair blew in the breeze majestically.

The ground swallowed him up, and cute little flowers in the sky formed the words, "Goodbye, Dean!"

The zombies danced around the hole in the ground, and the credits rolled.

***

"So? What'd you think?" Gabriel asked as they walked out of the emptying movie theater. 

"Artful. Strange. Interesting interpretation," Crowley said thoughtfully.

"Too much disco. But, sometimes funny," Sam said.

"Traumatic?"

"No." Sam was surprised as he realized it. "Not really. It was almost...helpful? In a way. Despite the theme. And the disco, which was terrible."

"Drinks are on me," Gabriel nodded toward the bar in the theater. He picked himself up what was apparently called a Demon Bloody Mary to sip. "You gotta try one of these."

"Okay," agreed Sam. "But then I kind of want to rest."

"I'll take you home."

"To the bunker, right? Not to our new home."

"Haven't you hidden enough?"

Sam and Crowley eyed each other, then Gabriel.  "I'm pissed at Lucifer," Sam pointed out. 

"What, after all that, you're still pissed?"

"You really _don't_ understand humans," commented Crowley. He reached for Gabriel's drink. "Is there real demon blood in that?"

Sam reached for the drink, trying it himself. No, no demon blood to speak of. It wasn't half bad. "Why can't we just take a break tonight? It's just one night."

"Because of _The End_. It's a Supernatural book. Crowley's read it, I've read it, but you shouldn't. It's almost August, when the big confrontation is supposed to happen."

"So, wait, you're here about the fate of the world or something? Again?"

"Basically."

Sam sighed. Gabriel was not really a bringer of fun. He was a bringer of harsh reality.

"The less you know, the more it can be altered. Just, let things happen as they will. Don't try so hard to get away from it."

Sam scoffed. "Your brothers tortured me in the Cage, alright? Lucifer, mainly, but sometimes due to Michael's instruction, or to get back in his good favor. I already paid for my debt to society, okay, so I think I deserve a break."

"I think you do too." Sam looked up, saw sincerity in Gabriel's eyes. "Why do you think I took you out here? You're under my protection. Lucifer never _could_ find me when I really didn't want to be found. But, the bunker? Not even I can get into it without destroying it. And no one's there. Not Kevin, not Charlie, and boyfriend's not gonna light an end-of-the-world fire under your ass."

Sam glanced at Crowley, who looked embarrassed of the truth of the statement.

"You'll get through it," Gabriel promised, "like you always do. If you need me to talk to Lucifer, I will, at length. But don't isolate yourself, and don't go somewhere he can't follow right now. Not being trusted...that'll upset him more than anything. And you've been good for him."

Sam scoffed, sipping more of the drink.

"It's true," Gabriel continued more quietly. "He's a lot softer since you've been sharing your days with him. You're always being crapped on, and it isn't fair. I know, cause I've dumped on you too. But you're always lifting others up at the same time, you know? You care about people, and you like to see them change, even if you're hurt in the process. That's your tragedy. I agree you need a break. You may be strong, but you really earned it, kid. Just, not at the bunker. Not tonight." He noted Sam's glare, responding with an apologetic smile. "Lucifer's scared, and needy, and you're his best friend. And that still means something to you."

Sam sighed. He touched the cool glass, focusing on the red of the drink, not looking at Gabriel.

"Just think about it," Gabriel said. "I know what I'm asking isn't nice, or fair, or even pretty. I know it's...it's actually kind of gross. But you two are together at the end of the world. And that's just the way it's gotta be."

Sam stared at the poor celery stalk drowning in the thick redness of the drink and all its ice. He took in the way it was surrounded and couldn't climb out of the glass no matter how hard it tried.

He stared at the sour little lime sitting stranded on the rim of the glass, unable to get to the celery, the only other sign of life. He turned the glass so that the lime was on the other side, away from him.


	20. Sway ("dancing")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Physical violence** and **mentions of abuse**.

The Cage was ice. The Cage was fire, with tomato and vodka for drowning, for burning; it was lava, was tornado and rain, was a Demon Bloody Mary in a sealed glass container.

A cool breeze and a gleam of gold, of blue like the morning light, meant protection, meant the flexing of the living barrier himself as he slithered between the raging angelic force of dwindling faith and the pathetically exposed human soul.

The faith-drained archangel, pink and orange and indignant and molten and lost in endless twists of reasoning and despair, crying out, hoping to make Sam pay. Lucifer's voice, cold, irrefutable. "You can't have him, Michael." "I'll punish him, not you." "Go find Adam. Leave Sam alone."

Calm skies and waters, and Lucifer's voice a whisper, a breeze. "It's okay, Sam." "Come with me, Sam." "You'll be just fine."

Lucifer's fingertip alone with the power to burn. The awful voice grating, burning him, cooing, "Just a little longer. Then he'll get bored." Sam wishing _Lucifer_ would get bored as Lucifer tore and bruised, screaming, "Look at how he treats me! Look at what you've done!"

Lucifer's hand in Sam's hand, steady, fingers stroking lightly. Lucifer leading Sam through pretty fields, humming and singing, wanting Sam to dance with him to the rhythm, laughing with joy when he did.

Lucifer's hand in Sam's hair, twisting strands around his fingers so delicately, fascinated, careful.

Lucifer's hand in Sam's bowels, pulling. Lucifer's breath on his cheek, chilling, freezing. Lucifer's fingers in the taught meat of Sam's heart, palpitating, playing, popping. 

Lucifer's teeth in Sam's shoulder, tearing. Lucifer's gleeful laugh in Sam's ear, echoing.

Backhanded compliments and taunts, every bit of guilt played upon.

Some of the best philosophical conversations Sam had ever had. Facts about history that expanded Sam's mind.

Two hands that expanded Sam's brain.

Gentle hands, a different voice, a careful query. "Sam? Darling? You there?"

Sam pushed Crowley away from him, tired of touches. “Screw it," he said.

"Er...what?" Crowley was cautious like budding leaves, ready to snap in half like celery.

Sam turned away slightly, only to have his gaze caught by Gabriel's. Gabriel was determined, was thoughtful, was willing to cover the sun like a thick cloud, screwed up and sour and noticed like lime. “Screw it," Sam said again to make sure he'd said it. "No bunker. I don't want it. I just want...Dean," he admitted. "Just Dean."

Sam swallowed as they stared at his crazy, as they floated in his icy redness. "Take me back to Dean," he demanded with deceptive quietness. "I don't care. I don't care anymore."

He was still saying he didn't care as Gabriel guided him toward the door to Dean's cabin. If he stopped saying it, he was going to be swallowed up.

He whispered it as Dean held him, too. He closed his eyes and thought it as Dean shushed him. He gripped Dean tightly because he didn't care, because screw it, because screw Lucifer and his hands too.

He didn't care, Dean didn't care, Dean cared. Two gentle arms and no bunker. Lime juice. Celery. Melted ice cubes. Brothers. An empty glass turning and not tipping over, waiting to be full again, waiting to be used.

***

When Sam woke, dried out from crying about things he didn't care about and a little disoriented, Dean was still wrapped around him on the bed, snoring comfortingly, his breath warm.

"Hey," Gabriel said after a moment, appearing out of nowhere, and Sam jumped, gripping Dean tight and cursing loudly. Dean startled awake, alert and ready, but relaxed when he heard Sam hiss the archangel's name.

"Sorry," Gabriel said without much apology. "Sam, you got a visitor. If you want, I can make him leave."

Sam stared at Dean, who shoved at him a little because they were close enough for comfort but too close for when the comforting was done, and Sam turned toward Gabriel to ask, "A visitor? Who?"

"Lucifer," Gabriel said. 

"What?!"

"Lucifer. He's outside, in a temporary vessel. I can feel him. I'd know him anywhere."

Sam reached for Dean and gripped his shoulder, staring at him intently as if wondering if Dean was hearing Gabriel too.

Dean pushed Sam's hand off, but he turned to Gabriel and said, "Alright. We're gonna go out and meet him. All three of us."

Sam swallowed hard, but he didn't voice any objection.

***

"What's going on?" Chuck asked when they headed for the door, Gabriel in front. "Who's that girl?"

"She's Lucifer," Gabriel explained. 

"No," Chuck said, "I see Lucifer. I recognize Lucifer. There's someone with him."

Confused, Gabriel opened the door just a smidge, peering out. "Shit! Hang on." Sobering, Gabriel disappeared, then came back with Crowley. "Safest place for you is with us right now," he said. 

"Lucifer?" Crowley asked, blinking.

"Worse."

"Worse? Who?!"

Gabriel pushed Crowley behind him, then swung open the door.

Crowley inhaled sharply. 

"Why if it isn't the lovely Abaddon," Gabriel said, waggling his eyebrows. "Nice of you to drop in, sweetheart."

"Shove it, Gabriel," she frowned. "You know we're on non-speaking terms." She stepped into the cabin, gesturing for Lucifer to follow. Sam hesitated before taking a step back. Lucifer was in Nick again. Nick meant manipulator, tormentor, dealer of sleepless nights, champion of rape jokes and pain.

"Lucifer looks pretty good for someone trapped in a Cage then forced to share a meat suit with Sam Winchester, doesn't he?" said Abaddon.

Lucifer cautiously waved to Sam, tilting his head slightly at Sam's apparent discomfort. "I brought you the ingredients, Sam," Lucifer said. "For the spell against Michael. He's been up to see Metatron. They're probably forming some sort of alliance."

"Oh yeah?" Sam managed, still eyeing Lucifer, face not giving much away.

"Sam? What's wrong? You can tell me." He looked so concerned. Sam could almost see help on his cases, comments that were almost funny, boredom that made him feel necessary.

"Boss, he's a vessel," snorted Abaddon. "Did you spend too much time in that holy lock box with this guy and the 'good son'?"

"Michael lost most of the faith he had," Lucifer smirked. A moment of surprised silence followed this. Gabriel glanced back at Sam to see if this was true, and so did Dean. Sam offered an ironic quirk of the lip.

"Where were you guys last night?" Lucifer asked suddenly. "Dean said you'd be at the bunker, but you weren't. You weren't here either. You weren't anywhere where I could read your presence."

Sam glared at Dean, who didn't look sorry.

"They were in the future. With me," said Gabriel. He turned to Chuck for a moment. "We were watching adaptations of the _Supernatural_ books. I've taken Chuck a few times by now."

"I really wish you wouldn't," Chuck replied.

"Gabriel, all this fraternization with humans isn't good for you." Lucifer stepped a little closer. "You're changing."

"And I'm not the only one," Gabriel said pointedly, turning back toward him. 

Sam's eyes widened, and he caught Gabriel's gaze, shaking his head slightly.

"What's that even supposed to mean, Gabriel?" asked Lucifer.

"Little dose of humanity seems to be working wonders on you, bro. You, however, are hard to be around sometimes. So, I wanted to get their sorry asses away from you for a bit, give 'em a break."

Lucifer frowned. "What do you care, Gabriel? You wouldn't suggest that on your own. Why would you? Someone put you up to it." Lucifer stared hard at Crowley.

Crowley put his hands up in front of him. "I was just along for the ride, I swear. You should go check it out, the hubbub about your boy. It's fascinating. Opera about Sam's miserable love life is showing, at some point in human history. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Crowley," Lucifer said, voice quiet. "I'm only gonna say this once. Shut your insolent little face. Because I know what you do to Sam. I know how skewed his little brain is when you're around. You're the worst poison there is, and you're gonna pay for your sins."

"But not from you," Sam said, stepping toward Lucifer instead of away. 

Crowley, said, "Sam," but Sam shushed him.

"You don't get to hurt Crowley anymore."

"Oh, like he needs your permission?" Abaddon snarked. "Sam, back away. I'm pretty sure you're not this stupid."

"Lady, you don't know a thing about me. Lucifer," Sam said, "it was me who wanted to get away, but I'm back now. I'm here because there's a part of me that trusts you. I'm here cause I know your tricks, I know what you can do, but I'm still gonna do the right thing anyway. If you care about me, even a little bit, you'll leave Crowley alone. You won't touch a hair on his head."

An ugly sneer twisted Lucifer's face. "Don't put _me_ on trial here. You went to the future to hide from me. You left like it all meant nothing."

"Sam?" Dean said with a swallow.

"Meant nothing?" Sam blurted out. "Nothing? It meant _everything,_ you self-righteous dick."

"Sam," Crowley murmured in warning.

"I have given you _everything_. I had a couple flashbacks recently. Of the Cage. And I'm tired of you avoiding the subject," Sam said. "I'm tired of you acting like we're _only_ friends when we're enemies too, Lucifer. You hurt me. And you...raped me. And you thought it was fun. And unless you stop hurting my friends and actually _change_ , that's not gonna wash off. All I'm gonna see is the guy who hurt me. You protected me from Michael, and that's good. But do me a favor and protect me from yourself."

Sam avoided everyone's gaze. He turned to walk out the front door of the cabin, holding his composure together. 

"Where are you going?" Lucifer asked, an edge of panic in his voice.

"To take a damn walk," Sam spat.

"I forbid it." 

Sam snorted. "I bet you do."

"Sam, stay."

Sam slammed the door shut behind him. Lucifer blew it open again.

"Stop! I remember the last time you took a walk, Sam."

Sam whirled around. "You are _not_ in control of me, Lucifer. Trust is a two-way street, and it's about letting go. So let me go, dammit." His eyes burned into Lucifer's, but he still avoided everyone else's gaze. He turned around and started to walk, relaxing minutely when he heard the door to the cabin creak shut slowly, almost begrudgingly.

***

"Sam?" 

Sam turned. "Oh great," he sighed. "An old friend." His anger had mostly died down to a quiet burn. Depression had already started to creep in.

She stepped closer, placing a hand on her hip. "Well, if you don't want my company, or these herbs we meticulously collected, that's fine by me." She shook the small bag in her hand for emphasis.

"Bela," Sam said with another sigh. "Here with Abaddon and Lucifer. Aren't you a little young for that, in demon terms?"

"I may be young; that's true. But I'm good. I had good standing with Lilith, and it's all about who you know. I know you Winchesters too, of course. And I know Crowley. Sold him the Colt myself."

"And then you tried to kill me," Sam said.

"Strictly business," she replied, with just a hint of regret. "It was my life or yours, at least that's how I saw it. Things are much less black and white to a demon." She handed the herbs over. "Come on, Sam. Escort me."

"I seem to remember you being able to take care of yourself," Sam said as he took the bag. 

"Then do it because you're fond of me."

"I like too many awful sons of bitches for that to mean anything good."

"There was a time where you trusted your instinct."

"And then _you tried to kill me_ ," he pointedly repeated.

She smiled to herself. "You saved my life when I hadn't earned it," she reminded Sam. "I'd shot you, even. But you saw past what I'd done, saw someone who needed help, and you helped me. Simple as that." Sam turned to her, looking thoughtful. "I doubt it was all just because you wanted to sleep with me," she said.

Sam looked away, old embarrassment rising. "What makes you so sure I wanted to?" 

"I tried the dream root out on you, remember?"

Sam stared at the ground. "Um. I thought I was just dreaming." Sex didn't usually embarrass him much anymore. Why was he so embarrassed?

"So, you'd dreamt of me before?" she teased. 

Actually, he hadn't. "Hm."

"You know, I never meant to hurt you, Sam. Only kill you." Sam hated that he actually found that reassuring. "You're with Crowley now?" Bela went on. "Heard Lucifer talking. Crowley's charming. Or maybe you have a thing for accents." Sam looked over, noted she was teasing him.

"What does your boss want with him?" Sam asked.

"I think she just wants to make an example of him. You know, the standard fare."

Sam sighed, nodded. "Lucifer wants that. And a lot of other demons do too."

"But you won't let them touch him, will you?" said Bela thoughtfully.

"Not if I can help it, no."

"Good. That's the Sam I looked up to."

"Looked up to? The only thing you looked up to was the highest bid."

She grew serious and stopped walking. Sam stopped walking too, curious. "You are literally the nicest person I've ever met, Sam," she said. "You don't think I admired that, secretly?"

Sam blinked at that strange thought, at that sad thought. "Um. No," he admitted.

"You really do like a lot of awful people, Sam," she said delicately.

He tried to think of a reply, but she was gone before he could.

***

When Sam opened the cabin door again, he sat the bag of herbs down on a wooden chair and went on a search to find either his Crowley or his Dean, finding both. They were sitting next to each other on a bed, Dean watching as Crowley scrolled through some pictures on his smartphone. They looked up when Sam stood in the doorway.

Awkwardly, Sam fished for something to say so they wouldn't be able to ask how he was doing. "I just talked to Bela Talbot. She's working for Abaddon."

"She's good, too, from what I hear," praised Crowley. "Was it a nice chat?"

"Um, yeah. Sort of," Sam said, surprising himself with the answer.

Crowley handed Dean his phone, reaching into his own pocket. "Chuck found your necklace, Moosie." He offered Sam the chain with the wing pendant on it. "Kept pulsing at Gabriel, or whatever it does. Perhaps we should get a few more of those. Gloria, huh? Wonder what things she could tell us about the angels."

Sam stepped forward, taking the chain and slipping it over his head. He took Crowley's hand in his. "See you in a bit, Dean. Taking this guy on a walk."

"Hey, don't do that."

"Dean," Sam sighed.

"No, don't do that because they're all dancing the game room. We were just waiting for you to get back."

"Lucifer's in the game room?" Sam asked, confused.

"What? No. He split, and took his pals with him."

Sam suddenly felt lost like a man wandering the desert with no hope of survival. "Well, I don't dance."

"It's the apocalypse, Sam. Everybody dances."

Sam glanced at Crowley, who looked hopeful. "Okay," he said. "You go, Crowley. You dance with anybody, with everybody. Knock 'em dead."

Crowley smiled gently at Sam, lovingly. "One slow song with you, Moose. That's all I need."

Sam was so grateful to Crowley, was so oddly embarrassed and happy and thrilled to be with him, that he gave him two.


	21. Devil-May-Care ("cooking/baking")

Lucifer showed up in the corner of the game room wearing Nick, watching drunken and sober people alike make fools of themselves to music he wasn't too sure about. He waited for everyone to scatter away when they recognized him, and he waited for someone to bring Sam's attention to him. He wasn't in any hurry.

He waved a little vial of clear liquid as Sam approached, and he let Sam reach for it and take it, and finally Sam said, "Yours, I assume?" after looking at it for long enough.

Lucifer nodded. "I thought we could go to Adam's Heaven after all this."

Sam shrugged, pocketing the vial. "So, what did the trick?" he asked.

"Trick?" 

"Why were you crying, I mean? Physical pain?"

Lucifer looked away, watched the curious faces of some of the people at the camp, putting a soundproof barrier up around himself and Sam. 

"Michael," said Lucifer with a sigh. Sam shifted at that. They shared a look for a bit before Lucifer went on. "Something else, too. I suppose it's kind of silly."

"Was it the base being gone?" prompted Sam. Lucifer looked at him, startled. "Well," Sam tried, slowly, "I remember how that made you feel, you know? Losing your home. You, uh, don't feel at home much, I'd bet." He was so serious. Lucifer looked away again, and swallowed.

"No," said Lucifer. "It wasn't the base. It was this vessel." Lucifer straightened his shirt a little, stroked at the material absently with his thumb. Very human, not a suit like an angel usually wore. "Do you know what brought a decent man like Nick to say yes to me?"

It was Sam's turn to look away. "No. What?" He didn't necessarily like to think of Nick, as a good man or as a bad man or as anything, which was so hypocritical his eyes burned with self-reproach.

"Grief. His wife and his infant were murdered in the type of senselessly violent display your race is known for. Nick's pain was so great, and he was so _angry_ with God, that he didn't really need much of a push. I came to him looking like his wife, like I came to you looking like Jessica."

"Uh," Sam said in Lucifer's silence that followed, not sure what his response was supposed to be. "I remember that. Yeah," he admitted, glancing at Lucifer.

Lucifer quirked his lip like that meant the two of them shared something worth quirking one's lip over. "It was the infant that got to him the most, Sam. I had him listen to the cries of his child, through that...listening thing set up for baby's cries, and I made him see the blood that dripped down from the crib, and moved the little swing, back and forth."

Sam flinched. He'd lost Dean, lost him so many times there was less of him. There must have been less of Nick, then, when Lucifer had toyed with him. "Okay, why are you telling me this?" Sam demanded.

Lucifer paused. "You asked me." He looked confused, and a little annoyed.

Sam sighed. "I did," he admitted. "Okay, I did. Can we just...skim over your technique?"

"The point is," continued Lucifer, "I hurt him. With the memory of what he lost, with the future he'd never have with Sarah and the baby. And it didn't register, his pain, not even a little. Until today."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. Little afraid to ask, but what changed?"

"The way you talked to me today. Plus, being back in Nick. _And_ reading Meg's memories of her year with Crowley. And seeing her nightmares. And, alright, the base, but just a little bit."

Sam snorted in amusement. Lucifer shared a smile.

"You know something, Sam, I really don't remember much of my life before the Cage. It's...blurred."

"Yeah, with you on that one," Sam admitted.

"I think it's like a big, blank slate, wiping everything away."

"Seems about right. At times, I forget that was me, the guy who jumped, the guy who went to college." He lowered his voice. "The guy who lost Jess." Sam curled his fingers around the wings of the amulet absently, knowing Lucifer of all people would know how much he loved and missed her.

"You're wearing the necklace again," Lucifer pointed out with a curious glance, and Sam's thoughtful expression faded. He bristled.

"Yeah," Sam said sharply, "I am. It was a present, and that means I can wear it if I want to. You're not _in_ me right now."

"I like that it protects you," Lucifer soothed. "I want you to be safe, Sam, and happy. I told Abaddon she couldn't hurt your Crowley. I mean it. The last apocalypse was centuries ago, to Michael and me, to you. Meg's pain...it haunts me. But, when I'm violent, I seem to want more violence, with no hope of satisfaction. Times in the Cage were better than that, sometimes. They just were."

Sam played a pretty good lack of reaction, but the relief was so evident to Lucifer that his heart swelled. "Good," Sam said, crossing his arms. "I...wasn't sure how much to defend him, at first. I'm really not a very good...anything." Fresh in his mind were times he'd failed Dean as a brother and a friend, the way Jessica had burned on the ceiling, the way he hadn't saved Madison, had killed Ruby, and the way some of the unfortunate women who'd slept with him while he was soulless had died for the opportunity. The way his mom was dead because of him and her father and cousins were dead too. Not to mention, poor Crowley choking up sand, crying in guilty humiliation and trusting Sam all the while.

"Demons fixate on the now," Lucifer said. "I don't think they have very good memories. Which means I end up," he sighed, letting his sentence trail off for a moment.

"End up what?" asked Sam, glad for a distraction from his own failures and Crowley's pain.

"Becoming a legend," Lucifer shrugged. "Some sort of archaic figure no one can really get to know."

There was some truth to that. Sam had felt that way himself lately, only he hadn't created anybody, and he didn't have any plans grander than Stop Hunting and Die If Necessary.

"Well," Sam said, "that does suck. But maybe their less vivid memory is for the best. Sometimes it's better not to remember all the crappy things you've done."

"I never thought about it that way," Lucifer said with interest.

Sam looked down, fiddling with the angel wing amulet some more. "So, what do you think, should we get a group together and head to Heaven in a few hours?"

"Only if you feel like it. Because...Sam...I think maybe I do push too much sometimes. You're all I've got, you know."

"That isn't really true," Sam looked up. "You've got others, you just don't realize it. Like Gabriel and Meg, and a lot of the other demons. And Abaddon seems like a friend, right? Me, all alone, I'm stretched pretty thin sometimes."

Lucifer looked at Sam, confused.

"I'm glad we share our days," Sam continued, shaking his head. "I can't imagine if we didn't, if I had no time to myself. And I'm glad you don't just think of me as a vessel. Hell, you _barely_ think of me as a vessel. In a lot of ways, I lucked out." Lucifer's eyes searched Sam's, and he let them.

"Lucifer, you can spend time with us, with me, while you're in Nick, you know that?" Sam suddenly said. "You don't have to keep me under your thumb. You don't have to worry that my boyfriend's some stalker or that teenagers are gonna tie me up with a rope doused in holy fire every time I leave the house."

Lucifer looked down at the floor, which probably needed to be cleaned.

"We're gonna end the world, just like we're supposed to. But that's not all I am, and that's not all you are."

"I'm sorry," Lucifer blurted out, cautiously looking up. "I really am, Sam."

"Um. Okay. Fine." Sam's face twitched. He hadn't expected an apology, at least not so soon.

"I _am_ willing to change, to repent. For everything. The tricks, the pain, the violation. The rape. All the destruction, and the mind games, and trying to break you."

Sam swallowed and took a step back. "Hey, easy," he said roughly, and it occurred to Lucifer Sam wasn't comforting or coaching but instead was warning, pleading, retreating.

"That was too much too soon," Lucifer observed softly.

"Yeah. That's. Yep." That poor face scrunched, threatened to fall into other negative responses Lucifer didn't find himself wanting.

"I'll get you a beer." Lucifer turned off the soundproof barrier and went to get a drink for Sam, who watched him, alert but so far away all at once.

Beer in one hand, Lucifer took Crowley by the other, pulling him away from a conversation with Meg where she was actually laughing, and he led him over to Sam, curling their hands into each other's until they got the idea.

***

"What'd he want?" Crowley asked.

Sam watched Lucifer break up a dancing lesson between Dean and Cas. He reached into his pocket and handed the vial over to Crowley.

"Ah! Good. His, I presume."

"Right."

"You have that effect on people, Moose."

"Is that even a compliment?"

"More statement of fact." 

"Just letting you know, Lucifer wants us to ride the big elevator straight to the top in a few hours."

"Well, do we need to prepare or anything?"

Sam sighed. "Don't care. Think I'm gonna go sleep," he said, his eyes feeling heavy, but not from any exhaustion he could blame on grave-digging or on a set of celestial tests leading to a demise he couldn't even get right.

"You're gonna miss our attempt to bake, then. Should be fun." Crowley's eyes danced at the idea. "But don't you worry yourself, Moose, I'll save you plenty."

"I really don't care."

"I know." Crowley leaned up and pecked Sam on the cheek. "You rest up. You've had a lot on your plate."

Sam eyed Crowley for a minute. "I do love you," he said, more cautiously than he'd said it when they were on Make-Out Bridge.

Crowley took Sam's free hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles. "Likewise. And if you weren't so tired, I'd have half a mind to follow you to bed and relax you...and then wind you up again," he teased.

"You know, I've seen a lot less kink from you than I would have expected from a demon," Sam commented. "And I've slept with a few."

"Oh, you know I make a terrible demon. I care too much. Now, go." Crowley took the bottle from Sam's loosening grasp. "I think we'll try pie. Best to stay on big brother's good side, if he's got one."

Sam reached for Crowley, leaning down just a bit to kiss him heavily, his lips lingering just a bit. "Okay," he breathed against Crowley's lips, pulling away. "Thanks. Okay. You're awesome."

He thought about the kiss to his knuckles as he fell asleep, oddly touched by the gesture, as misplaced as it was. He'd given up the title of king years before, back when he'd still had some innocence.

***

When Sam was shaken awake, he jerked away from the touch, but he offered his friendliest blank expression when he realized it was Crowley. 

"Evening, love. Sorry about the wake-up call. I know you're jumpy. Come with me to see what we put together. We have to save some for Dean still, so don't get greedy."

"What? Why?" Sam pushed himself up. "Where's Dean?" He tried to sound mildly concerned instead of on the verge of panic. 

Crowley offered him a hand to get up. "He's heading to that hunter Gloria's with Meg to see if she knows anything about Heaven we don't. We sent Cas to the bunker for research, cause he likes it there, and Chuck and Angela went with. And we wanted you to be the one to give Kevin a ring."

Sam sighed. "Yeah. I understand. " For some reason, Kevin still trusted him, after everything he'd put the poor kid through.

"Good. That's the plan, then. Now, come. Pie won't keep forever, not with this meringue."

***

Sam was surprised to see the kitchen area in the mess hall souped-up. New appliances gleamed awkwardly against the drab of the rest of the hall and its ancient counters (who'd had a bit of a face-lift), but there was more space and presumably better performance, so who was really going to complain?

"This set-up is nice," Sam said.

"Lucifer's handiwork. We ate the apple pie while you were asleep, but we've got a lime meringue."

As Crowley served Sam a slice, the smell halted Sam. It reminded him of the plaid room where he'd drank away his sorrows with Amelia while avoiding the subject of Dean. It reminded him of how they'd met for the first time in that room, of what her lips sometimes tasted like.

"You'd think you'd never seen a pie before," Crowley teased. "Sit. Eat."

Sam's eyes flew to Crowley's face. "Hm?" he said.

"You've never seen a pie before? Sit," repeated Crowley. "And eat."

 _You've never seen a birthday cake before?_

Sam felt too raw all of a sudden. He felt like the smell of limes was trying to crawl up his nose and scrub his brain clean. 

_Sit._

Crowley had some sort of way to turn two demons into Sam and Dean look-alikes.

_Eat._

Crowley liked to direct. Crowley _wrote scripts_.

Sam rubbed at the place where Crowley had kissed his knuckles just a few hours before, and he stared at Crowley some more, unnerving him with his quietness, with the intensity of his stillness and the slump of his shoulders and the threat of implosion bubbling in Sam. "Sam?"

Soft laughter rose up, and spilled over, and Sam had Faith and Risa and a few other camp members staring.

"Tell me something," said Sam.

"Okay?" Crowley frowned.

"If you were gonna plug up a garbage disposal so maintenance would have to come fix it, would you use about 800 limes?"

The color drained from Crowley's face. He suddenly looked a little green himself. 

"Yep," Sam sighed as he took the plate with the pie on it from Crowley's vacant grasp. "That's what I thought."


	22. Moon Shot Rising ("arguing")

"Sam?" Crowley tried as Sam took a seat.

"Sorry. Gotta sit and eat first, right?" snarked Sam. "Where's the dog? And the wine? And the blanket?"

Crowley watched as Sam took little bits of the pie in defiance. "You don't have to do that," he said, quietly urging. "If you don't want it, don't—"

"Dean was right to laugh at me, you know," Sam interrupted.

"What?"

"About Amelia."

"He...laughed at you? No. I thought he was always trying to hook you up."

"Yeah, no, not really. Not since Hell."

"Your stint or his?" Crowley asked with caution.

"His. We don't really," Sam narrowed his eyes, concentrated on cutting off tiny little slivers of pie with his fork. "We don't really talk about mine. Not that I've exactly pressed, you know?"

"You told us a bit, yesterday."

"Yeah. Well. Not on purpose." Sam looked over at the camp members sitting and watching them. He wished for a moment he _was_ a king, or even just the vessel of the boss, like he'd been back at Lucifer Headquarters. He set the fork down quietly and stood up from the bench. He nodded to the back room. "Join me."

Crowley followed. Canned and dry goods were stored on shelves in the back room, and Sam stared at some of the packaging rather than at Crowley as he held open the door for him.

"I just found out my whole relationship was a sham," he said as they faced each other. "Because of you, right?"

Crowley hesitated. "I don't think sham's the right word."

Sam snorted. "Well, of course not. For you, it was a big success. You lured me in, or whatever. And I served your purpose. The big, dumb Moose everyone can dupe. 'Specially you."

"Amelia had feelings too, Sam."

"Oh, she did?" Sam said with disbelief. "Huh. Apparently not enough to try being honest with me."

"Like you were being _so_ honest," Crowley said.

"Well, I really _was_ some poor sap who hit a dog. And, I don't know, a human being, who really looks like this."

"And what about hunting, hm?" Crowley called, anger showing itself for the first time in a long time in his challenging tone, his fierce scowl, and his ready stance, all of which surprised Sam into blinking and letting his mouth hang faintly open. "I seem to recall that being a pretty big part of your history."

Sam swallowed. 

"Tell me, Sam, if _you_ fell for you while being a demon pretending to be a lonely veterinarian, would you tell you, Stabby McExorcism about that, or would you avoid it?"

Sam chewed at his lip. "I'd probably avoid it," he admitted. "Not like it matters anyways. It was all a game. A year, down the drain. No, what's worse than down the drain?" What's worse, Crowley thought, was being kept around as a bottle of sunshine and used for sexual favors. The demon winced.

"I'm tired of demons pushing me," Sam said. "You were the _last_ one I thought would —" he trailed off, trying to calm himself.

"Amelia Richardson, Moose, the demon playing her, actually—God help her—loved you," Crowley said, eyes open and honest. He took a step forward. Sam took one back. "Maybe it wasn't supposed to be like that, but you have that effect on people."

"How could she have _loved_ me?" Sam said like the word was obscene. "She was a demon."

"Thanks," Crowley said wryly.

"Next, you're gonna tell me Ruby was in love with me," said Sam hotly. "Or," he laughed a quick, desperate laugh, "Brady."

"I," said Crowley, stunned for a moment, "I'd _never_."

"Same song, different verse. Manipulate me, sleep with me, push me away." Sam bowed his head and ran his hand through his hair, feeling oddly weak. "Wow. You'd think I'd learn, right? But it's always the same thing. And I don't want this... _pain_ again," Sam glanced up desperately for a moment, staring into two wide eyes. "I want things...like they're supposed to be. Normal, you know? Even...good."

Sam leaned back against the shelf behind him. "I want to prove Gabriel wrong. I don't want to be a tragedy. I don't want to be nice when no one's nice to me without having some agenda. What's the point?" His lip trembled.

Crowley sucked in a breath through his nose. "It's true, Moose," he said. "I set things up. To distract you, to try and get your mind off Dean. You were running, and you were scared."

"You were tracking me," Sam said slowly, voice rough. "Weren't you?"

"I was." Crowley's gaze was intent.

"Some damn coin hidden in the Impala again?"

"More or less."

Sam blinked against his tears in a moment of sudden clarity. "It was you. You made the dog appear. Didn't you?" Some sort of dull hope went over Sam, like having that specific thing cleared up might help clear up other things.

"Yes," Crowley said easily.

"You had everyone...blame me for it," Sam frowned. "Everyone gave me a hard time about that dog. Tried to make me feel bad."

"As you expected people would, no?" offered Crowley. 

Sam raised a brow, then sighed. "Were you watching the whole time, then?"

"Yes."

"Like, everything?"

There was a moment where Crowley weighed his words. It pissed Sam off that the demon's words suddenly needed weighing. "Yes."

"You're gross," Sam said.

"What?"

"You watched private moments between some demon and me. Hell, you actually _sent_ her to me. You _told_ her to...do stuff, and directed our sex life."

"Back up a few steps there, Moose," Crowley said, treading carefully. 

"Why should I? Getting too close to the truth?" Sam sneered, then lowered his face after he said it, tired of how lost and young he sounded when Crowley seemed so clever and ageless. 

"Amelia did with you what she wanted to do, and aside from the...initial script, no one directed Amelia but the girl herself. I brought Don back to see what you'd do. Wanted to see if you'd stay with her. You had that option, but you _chose_ not to. _You_ chose. Twice, actually. You left her at the house, and then you left her at the motel. And I understand why you're upset, but she lost something too. Quite a loss it was, too." Crowley ran his eyes over Sam for a moment, his gaze gentle with a tinge of regret.

"This Amelia, this demon. Where is she?" demanded Sam, tears finally falling down the sides of his face. "Some of this is on you, the man behind the curtain, but some of it's on her. I wanna talk to her."

"What, you think she's at your beck and call? That's attractive."

"I'm Lucifer's vessel," Sam said with a sniff. "So, yeah, she kind of is."

"And to think, I thought your heart was bigger than your ego," Crowley said darkly, and disappeared. 

"Crowley!" Sam called after him, pushing out of the hot back room, looking around but keeping his gaze away from the gaze of the camp members as he wiped at his eyes with his sleeves.

The door swung open as he clumsily neared it, trying to avoid half a dozen gazes.

"We have something!" Cas announced as he entered, brandishing what looked to be a large piece of paper all folded up.

***

What Cas had turned out to be a map of Heaven, put together from memory, books, diary entries, and religious texts.

"I find it hard to remember everything about Heaven's layout without a map. My mind is not as...capable as it once was," Cas said sheepishly.

"It's okay, Cas," Sam assured, still sort of sniffing and trying to look pulled together. It wouldn't be long before Dean and Meg were back, and he didn't exactly want to tell anyone about his fight with Crowley, or at least not in any detail.

Angela and Chuck had a few documents about Heaven with them that detailed the more recent shifts in Heaven's purpose and inner workings, according to similar sources. Chuck also said he could remember what he'd seen in his visions clearly, but that he hadn't seen very much. Sam and Dean remembered their trip too.

Dean opened the door after a while, demanding pie, with Meg behind him, and Sam was still looking intently at Cas's map when he heard a voice he'd never expected to hear again call his name. "Sam? Sam Winchester."

Sam's head flew up so fast he actually had to rub at the back of his neck. "Missouri?" he asked, a little dazed. He meant to rise, to greet her, but he just sat there, looking up as she approached, not sure whether he wanted such a good psychic, such a good _woman_ so close. The things she'd be able to read! But it wasn't like he could stop thinking them.

She halted in her tracks as she neared him, keeping a little distance. "Oh, Sam," she said, as he thought about Lucifer and Azazel and Brady and revenge and destruction, about Jess and John Winchester, about snippets of Mary, about Dean and Crowley and Amelia and Ruby, about being soulless, haunted, suicidal. She stepped closer, and he lowered his head, everything heavy, bogged down with regret. 

"Sweetheart," she said, her voice full of an emotional depth he'd never heard in the voice of anyone else, only in hers. He felt his eyes well up again. 

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking. He couldn't look her in the eye more than a second. He physically couldn't. He let his gaze drop. 

Slowly and gradually, as if she might spook him otherwise, she started to hold him, as if she could hug him close enough to ease his pain, to change the events of his life since she'd last seen him. "You only got one thing to be sorry for, Sam," she said.

Sam reached up to hold her too. He buried his face and took in a deep, shuddering breath. He didn't care what the thing was. He'd be sorry.

"Aren't you gonna ask me what?" she said softly, running fingers through his hair a bit to relax him. He winced. He probably needed a shower. No, he definitely did.

He shook his head slightly, even though he realized the sooner he knew what it was, the sooner he could make amends, and the sooner she'd forgive him.

"You were supposed to keep in touch," she reminded. "Though, I figured you boys wouldn't, to be honest."

Sam laughed weakly, and the tears came, and he sort of wished she'd pull away, but most of him wished he could just remain there, in her arms, absolved.

And as he remained, he heard Cas talking to someone unfamiliar, a woman, and Dean and Meg were too, and Missouri said, "She goes by Gloria now, Castiel," her voice rumbling against Sam's cheek. 

Sam pulled away, just a little, face hot from his own breath against the fabric of her shirt, and Missouri ruffled his hair one last time as she said, "Okay, Gloria. Honey," and turned around to face the woman Sam had never seen before. "Finding a naked man in the woods and saving the poor bastard's life, yes, that sounds like God's instruction. But marrying said man in a matter of months when he doesn't know who he is, because he's special and that makes you feel special too? You got such a pretty head, can't you use it?"

"Oh! Cas's wife!" Sam said suddenly. Everyone stared at him for being behind on that one. But he'd had his face pressed against a psychic, alright?

"Ex-wife," Gloria corrected. She eyed Sam for a moment. "And anyway, I've found my way since then," she said to Missouri. 

"Don't I know it. Boys, Daphne, Gloria, whatever she's gonna go by next, she can see angels, and hear them. In their natural state."

"And...sense them," Gloria said. "When Emmanuel—sorry, Castiel—came to say goodbye, that was my first glimpse." She turned to Sam. "I learned to make amulets to sense their presence, like the one you're wearing. Missouri and I have been working together, helping people where we can." 

"And we put protection over your house, boys," Missouri added. "And yes, we know you showed up to visit. Gloria tells me you boys are angel heroes, and that her Castiel is your Castiel. The angels talked about you all the time before falling." 

"But you didn't," said Gloria suddenly, eyeing Cas. "Fall, I mean. You're human."

"Metatron did this," he explained.

"I've heard him talk. He's done a lot," she agreed. "Is that why we're going? To stop him?"

"I guess, if you wanna get ambitious," said Dean. "Mainly, we need to get in to distract him and get something from our half-brother's Heaven."

"Adam," Gloria supplied, turning to him.

"Uh. Right." Dean frowned.

"If you're gonna help distract Metatron," said Gabriel, appearing behind Dean and making him curse, "I've got a mission of my own."

"We don't have _time_ for angel missions," Meg complained.

"What do you care? You can't even go," Gabriel pointed out.

"What? Why not?" Sam asked.

"Really, Sam?" said Dean. When Sam still looked confused, he said, "Earth pony can't just gallop through Cloudsdale." 

"What?!"

"Wow, Dean," Meg commented. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever compared me to."

***

After a while of listening to Gloria talk about angels, Sam remembered he was supposed to call Kevin. 

"We were just wondering if you could email the latest of your scoop on the angel tablet," Sam said, pleased to hear the faint thump of music in the background. Kevin getting out was always a good thing.

"Is this for the spell against Michael?"

"Yeah. We need a piece of Adam's Heaven."

"Well, tell the Devil good luck from me," Kevin joked.

"It won't be just him," admitted Sam. "We're all going, those of us who can."

Kevin paused. "Count me in."

"You don't have to worry about it, Kevin. We just need your notes, and that's it."

"No, _count me in_. I'm not asking. You can have all my notes. I'll send them right now. But I'm coming. Send Gabriel, or even Lucifer, but take me with you."

"What?" Sam paused. "This could get dangerous."

"Who am I running from, Sam? Your boyfriend? Your best friend Lucifer? The fallen angels who don't know about me and don't care?"

"How about Metatron?" Sam said pointedly.

"Oh." Kevin paused. "I hadn't thought about that. But...look. I'll have two archangels there to protect me, right?"

"Not at all times. Kevin...what's your angle?" Sam asked with concern. 

"Just send an angel, Sam. Email's coming your way in ten."

Kevin hung up.

***

Sam prayed to Lucifer. "Just talked to Kevin," he explained. "He's sending his notes, but he wants to come with us. Someone needs to pick him up, I guess."

"You cried while I was gone," Lucifer said, tilting his head. "You smell like hidden misery."

"Let me guess, that's a turn-on?" Sam joked.

Lucifer blinked. "...Sam?" he tried.

Sam sobered. "I had a fight with Crowley," he finally explained. "But that doesn't mean you get to say 'I told you so'."

Lucifer glowered, but remained silent.

"Gloria, the hunter who made this for you," Sam said, lifting the amulet from its place against his chest, "she's inside."

"She's weird," Lucifer commented, pulling a face, but he did acknowledge, "Knows a lot about angels, though. I even tried out my real voice, and she understood me. She quit her job to see the world when Castiel stepped out on her. Now she drives around talking to fallen angels. Can't say I'm not jealous."

"You wish you could do that?"

Lucifer shrugged. "It doesn't matter. The world is still tainted by human destruction and greed, and my brothers and sisters all want me dead. Or worse."

Sam reached out and rested a hand on Lucifer's arm. "That's gotta be rough, Lucifer," he stated, before taking the hand away again.

"You know something? It is," Lucifer said, before flapping away to get Kevin.

***

"Now," Gabriel said, "there's probably security. Warnings for new angel presences, for shifts in Heaven's structure. There are a few angels up there still besides Metatron. This is why I think if we want to distract, we should defend." He turned to Dean for a moment. "Angel-banishing sigils are gonna mean it takes us angels a while to get back to you, time you might not have to spare."

"And we have Holy Oil," Naomi said. "To be used sparingly. Somewhere lies a collection of stolen Heavenly weapons, thanks to Balthazar."

"So, what," said Dean, "we find that?"

"I already know where it is," Cas said. "And I have the key."

"Exactly," continued Naomi. "Castiel, you will find the weapons, and Gabriel will protect you. Dean should join you, considering his incredibly quick mind when it comes to mechanics and weaponry."

Dean blinked, looking around at the other faces. "Um," he said slowly, "thank you."

Sam pat him on the back with a smile.

"I'll distract Metatron," Naomi continued. "He's under the impression I've formed a loose alliance with him, and that he calls the shots. He believes that my serving him is only natural, even after my death at his hands."

"And I'll lead the rest on the Adam hunt," Lucifer said. "You all have good, strong souls, and, Sam and Chuck, you know what it's like up there with the Heavens split. What I know is a little outdated. Kevin is a prophet, so I guess that's helpful. Not sure why he's coming, though," he said with a squint.

"Devil's got a point," Dean said to Kevin, "I thought you'd want as far away from the rest of us as possible."

Kevin said nothing beyond, "I just want to. Okay?"

"And the hunting life breaks yet another promising future," Dean chuckled. "Weren't you gonna be president?"

Kevin crossed his arms.

As if he hadn't been interrupted, Lucifer glared slightly at Dean and said, "Missouri will be sensitive to the energy of the inhabitants and, I'm guessing, the structures, of Heaven, and Gloria can hear the angel speak." 

"And we know someone else who can understand angel radio, up in Heaven," Sam supplied.

"Ash," Chuck said. "Right?"

"Ah, right," Dean agreed. "And he'll probably find at least one of us. How're we gonna split up, though? Sam and I have the exact same Heaven."

Lucifer snorted, "You'd be surprised how easy it is to restructure the place. But you're with angels, which is different than dying. We'll split up further, if necessary, provided the groups make sense."

"We're good to go, then, I assume?" Missouri said, eyeing Kevin for a moment.

"Mm, almost." Sam reached out, poked at the side of Lucifer's face where a pink, spot-like indentation was starting to appear. "Someone's a little bloodthirsty."

***

As Sam helped Lucifer's Demons bleed for the archangel to drink, he asked them all, "Question. Why is it so fun to manipulate me? Is it how I react or something? Am I just that stupid?"

"I don't know about anyone else, but I guess I just like you," Lucifer said. "In an unhealthy—what was it?—erotically co-dependent way. I like how strong you are, which makes it a challenge, and how your surprise proves innocence exists. I like your hope and your fear and your pain."

Sam took in a shaky breath, running his hand through his hair. "You think that's true for everyone?"

"It could be."

"For Crowley?" Sam breathed, frightened. 

"No. I don't know what you fought about, but Crowley's not anything like me. And he's not a stalker."

Sam slowly nodded, crossing his arms to create some distance as Lucifer sipped.


	23. Make Light Work ("in battle, side-by-side")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No Crowley. :-/

"Here." Lucifer passed the cup with the blood over to Sam.

Sam made a face. "I'm not drinking that."

"But what if I need to wear you?" Lucifer asked seriously. He extended the cup just a bit more toward Sam. "Come on, Sam. Just in case."

"It's probably a good idea," Meg pointed out. "Here, I'll get you a toothbrush and some coffee."

Sam sighed as she left. "You guys are disgusting," he said, wrinkling his nose and tipping the cup back.

Lucifer leaned close and whispered with cool breath in Sam's ear, "I think you still like the taste."

Sam choked. "Lucifer, go away," he grumbled, wiping the back of his hand across the drops of blood on his lips.

Lucifer glanced at Sam's lips and smirked. "Fine," he said. "But, if I go, you should come with me." He glanced up at the ceiling pointedly.

Sam snorted. "You mean to Heaven? Alone?"

"Not alone, just...first. I want to see your Heaven."

"You've never seen my Heaven?"

"Of course not, Sam. I haven't been home since the Heavens were split."

Sam thought about the small, cramped Heaven that Dean shared with him. "It's not that interesting," Sam decided.

Lucifer frowned.

Sam shrugged, handing the cup back to Lucifer. "It's just a bunch of memories." He remembered how hurt Dean had been. He certainly didn't want to go there with Dean again; Dean didn't deserve that. But he didn't want to go there alone either. "It's kind of like the Cage, without the pain." 

It was no Hell, but it wasn't exactly the place of comfort he'd always imagined. Maybe it had been, once. But it wasn't anymore.

"Lucifer, I think Heaven's going to disappoint you," Sam said seriously.

"You've only seen your tiny corner of it," Lucifer said. "What would you know?" Then he was gone, leaving the cup to fall pointlessly to the ground, an empty vessel rimmed with the vestiges of demon blood, nearly broken beyond use.

Sam left it there, not even bothering to pick it up and take it toward the nearest trash can.

***

"Where's Lucifer?" Gabriel asked when Sam walked back in.

"Wait, he's not with you? Dammit!" Sam quickly but cautiously met Gabriel's gaze. "I think he went already. To Heaven. To prove me wrong. I...kind of thought he'd be disappointed, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Gabriel said. "And me too."

Sam swallowed.

"We should go up, then," said Naomi. "Metatron has a few members of staff on the lookout. Archangel or not, I don't want anyone accosting Lucifer."

"Okay, then. All hands on me," Gabriel said, holding out his arms.

When everyone had some contact with Gabriel, he disappeared from the earth with a flap of wings, shifting a group of humans and Naomi across the universe in a stomach-dropping second. 

Looking around, catching their breaths, all could see Gabriel had flown them to a hallway inside a boring-looking building. It was stark and lifeless. Even the set of windows on the either side seemed somehow static and solid and status quo. “Heaven” didn’t seem like the right term.

"I expected bad, but this is as ugly as _Earth_ ," Gabriel announced.

Naomi narrowed her eyes slightly in offense. Sam remembered it was her idea of Heaven. "Well," she admitted, glancing around, "it's not what it once was,  _long_  ago."

The only spot of color was the outside world, seen through the windows. Lush green grass under a bright sky. It looked fresh and promising out there, almost alive, though somehow as still as the echoless tiles beneath their feet.

"I murdered hundreds out on that hill," Castiel murmured, noting Sam’s gaze, and Sam drew his eyes away from the window. There were some things it was just better not to know about your friends. 

"Frankly?" said Gabriel. "This is depressing. This Heaven _deserves_  to have its weapons stolen."  

Sam wondered how many of the angels had begged for their lives. Did angels habitually do that, or was that just Lucifer?

"Follow me," Naomi said, turning to meet gazes. "If we're stopped, I can say I'm giving a tour. You’ve led unique lives. That means something to Metatron."

"Why?" asked Chuck.

"He separates souls according to how interesting he finds them,” she explained. “Metatron has me monitored, so he'll probably show up before long. Maybe before we find Lucifer."

"I think he's in my Heaven," Sam said. "That's where he said he wanted to go before he vanished."

"Reckless," Naomi said with a roll of her eyes. "He always was. I think we should drop everyone off at Adam's Heaven, and then the two of us should go see if Lucifer is in yours. The door should be just down this hall."

Naomi approached a large, wooden door with ease and confidence, reaching for the handle. She looked all at once nervous and completely in her element. Her hand was strong, and it turned the knob as much as should have been necessary, even turned with perhaps too much force.

Only, the door wouldn’t open. Naomi tried again, the line of her shoulders tense. She looked back at Sam, confused.

"It's sealed," she said with surprise, pushing at the door.

She chanted something in Enochian too quiet for Sam to translate. The door glowed faintly, then the light faded. She turned, her back to the door, a slight frown on her face. "We can’t get in."

"To Adam’s Heaven?" Sam asked with concern.

"To any Heaven. The souls are locked inside," she said, stunned, resting her vessel back against the door that wouldn’t budge. 

"Okay." Missouri quietly stepped closer to the door, resting her palm against the side of it near Naomi's shoulder. "Excuse me, honey." 

Naomi stepped away, and Missouri spread both hands wide and pressed them against the door, palms flat to it, contemplative. 

"The weakest spot is right here." She stopped leaning against the door, turning to tell the angel, "I think you may be able to bust it open, with a little effort."

"Why would they seal the Heavens off?" Kevin asked, watching as Missouri stepped back again and Naomi placed a palm over the spot she'd indicated. "Some sort of...lock down?"

Naomi looked over her shoulder at Kevin, her face full of regret. "As far as I know, they've never done this before."

"This sounds like Metatron," Kevin pointed out. "He's...like this."

He was, if the sudden flap of wings and the smirk were anything to go off of.

"Like what?" Metatron asked. "Hey, Naomi."

Slowly, the group turned to look at him.

"What are you doing here, dear?" he said in a falsely sweet tone. "You're not on welcoming duty. Who'd appreciate that?"

"Well, these are old friends, Metatron," Naomi said smoothly, pulling her hand away from the door. She gestured to the group. "Including two prophets and a psychic, you'll notice."

Something in Metatron's gaze shifted, quieted, and something else warmed. "I remember you," Metatron said with a nod to Kevin, "But _you_ , you're _Gabriel's_ prophet. The author."

"Guilty?" Chuck said. 

Metatron offered his hand, and Chuck cautiously took it, glancing around at everyone else to gauge what he should do.

"Naomi, we'll need to keep this psychic away from the Winchester's other friends. There's already a psychic up here. They're causing me trouble."

"I understand."

"Of course you do," Metatron snarked. "You're nothing _but_ trouble." He turned to Kevin. "Kevin, do you know what I think she's been doing?"

Kevin blinked. He shrugged after a moment.

"I think she's been fixing the Heavens. But I don't really need someone following me around, judging what I'm doing. No one likes that."

Metatron eyed Naomi with distaste and self-satisfied pride. "That's why I locked the Heavens, for now. It took me a while to figure out how. I want to let them rebuild on their own, organically. I _don't_ need your help. You really like getting in my way, don't you? You're as much of a nuisance as Castiel, but even harder to keep in line."

Naomi swallowed almost imperceptibly.

Metatron reached into his pocket for an angel blade, withdrawing it slowly, sighing. Naomi backed up a step, standing firmly in front of the door again, reaching into her own pocket. "Metatron," she said, "you have asked for my help, and I've given it to you. You'll find I've been on your side. You musn't let your perceptions cloud your judgment."

"Don't try to play me, Naomi. We're not really allies. How could we be? It's every angel for herself."

"Metatron, it was me," came a cool voice.

Metatron turned to look at Sam Winchester's face in surprise, staring into his eyes. He tilted his head. "You're not an angel," he decided.

"You can't _tell_ I'm an angel. But then, you've been all alone for far too long." Sam's lips formed a mockery of a pout. "Poor Metatron."

Metatron shifted, relaxing his grip on the blade, but he made no move to put it away.

"I'm here now, Metatron." Sam's voice rang cool in the echoless hallway. "Back home. You know how much I've always loved my home. And my brothers and I _are_ going to rule over it again, like we were always meant to. We're done fighting this time. We'll judge you in perfect harmony with each other, trust me. We don't like what you've done to our home, sealing off the Heavens." The head shook slowly. "If I were you, I'd let her go and unseal them. She's done nothing but what you asked."

Metatron narrowed his eyes. "You're not Lucifer," he said with just a hint of uncertainty. "Just a puffed-up human who I hope to God I killed myself. Worthless, faithless."

Sam's feet stepped forward, and Sam's body leaned. His lips smirked and his hand rose until it rested heavy on Metatron's shoulder. "I'm not Lucifer?" He smirked widely. "Go ahead. Try me," he whispered. "It'll be fun."

Metatron swallowed.

Sam's body shifted forward, and his lips pressed almost to Metatron's ear. "Oh, and I wouldn't talk about my Winchester like that if I were you."

Metatron disappeared.

Sam wiped at his mouth with his hand, giving a shudder.

"That was pretty good, Sam," Naomi praised.

Sam shook his head. "Naomi, I prayed to him. To Lucifer. But he wouldn't come."

Naomi's hand went to her ear, cupping it, fiddling with it. "Well, he's probably trapped inside the Heavens," Naomi explained. "The human Heavens."

"Metatron is coming back with someone," Gloria announced.

"What?! With who?" Sam asked, looking around.

"An angel. An angry angel," Gloria said with a swallow. "Do you think you can break the door down?"

Naomi warned them all to stand back before using her blade and blasts of energy on the crack at the edge of the door. It began to widen, shining with light. 

***

Sam began to shine with light too. The pulsing heat in the pendant Gloria made Sam came, as it always did when a new angel presence entered the scene. In this case, the new presence was Lucifer.

 _I'm sorry, Sam,_ Lucifer said from inside. _I shouldn't have left you._ Sam felt guilt rising like a hazy mist from the place where they met.

 _It's okay, Lucifer. Glad you're safe,_ Sam said.

"If there's one thing we don't wanna be when he gets back," Lucifer declared, "it's here." He gestured for Naomi to back away from the door, and with Lucifer's vision Sam could see that the door wasn't entirely physical. A lot if it was energy. Reaching Sam's hands out and pulling apart the sides of the gap with both physical and celestial strength, Lucifer widened the crack even more.

"Metatron cut me off," Naomi admitted softly to Lucifer. "All I can hear is a faint buzzing."

Lucifer turned to look at her. "He's an idiot. Your strength in things like restructuring wouldn't be a match for the damage he's causing to the walls. You're more of a...brute force warrior. No offense?" he added.

"None taken," she shrugged. "I prefer it that way."

Sam stepped forward in his body. "How is he screwing things up so badly?" he asked. "What's Metatron doing, exactly?"

"Collecting stories. Life stories," Lucifer explained. He pushed Sam back inside the body a little more in order to pull at the crack with more force. The crack was wide enough for Gloria or Kevin to have slid through, physically. Soon, it was just a touch wider.

There was a sound like something between the crackle of fire and the roll of distant thunder.

 _What was that?_ asked Sam.

 _The spell breaking._ Lucifer turned and offered his arms for the humans and Naomi to place their hands on him. "Let's go. Now."

They were suddenly in a motel room Sam didn't recognize, but it was definitely his memory. Either that, or Dean's.

"Welcome to Sam's Heaven," Lucifer said. "It's kind of sad."

"Yeah, and yours totally wouldn't be, if angels had Heavens," Sam griped.

"My Heaven is you, Sam," Lucifer teased in sing-song, but not a single member of the group took it as a joke.

Lucifer gestured to the toddler making awkward steps toward an older boy. "One of Sam's first memories. Note who he's walking toward." John Winchester was asleep on one of the beds, and Dean was biting his lip and motioning for Sam to come closer.

"I told you Dean was a goofy-looking kid," Missouri said fondly as they watched.

"I never saw one from this far back before," Sam commented. "Or one with Dean in it."

"Well, of course not," said Lucifer. "You do know Zachariah was manipulating your Heaven? Playing on your guilt?" 

"Oh."

"How are you this stupid?" Lucifer led them to the front door of the motel room. "C'mon." He pushed the door open, saying, "Make sure you hold the door for the next person. It's harder to go backward than you'd think."

Sam stared as he watched himself unknowingly teaching a ghoul how to shoot. He wished it wasn't such a good memory, even after what had ended up happening, even after what he knew. He remembered how proud he'd been to have a little brother.

"Is that your brother?" Missouri asked.

"No, it's...actually a ghoul," Chuck explained with regret.

"A what?!"

"It's a strong memory either way," said Lucifer. "The pride and joy Sam felt at the time are powerful. The next memory won't be so pretty, though," he announced. "Or the one after that."

As they went through the next door, Sam pulled back inside the body, shuddering slightly. He could hear his own sounds of agony, guessing what he'd see, and turning out to be correct. The ghoul was actually tasting his insides, rapturously. Sam remembered being strapped down. Sam remembered bleeding out for them. He was glad to be with Lucifer, and not in his Heaven alone, in place of the Sam he was staring timidly at while trying not to. 

Lucifer quickly led them to the next memory. The door they went through then was a thicker door, hard for even Lucifer to push. He held it open for everyone. The group walked slowly, even Naomi, upset by the suffering they'd seen, and by the suffering they could hear. Agonized screams didn't bode well. Especially in Heaven.

"This isn't mine." Sam quickly realized. 

"Of course not. It's Adam's. He's being killed," explained Lucifer, though that was fairly obvious. There wasn't going to be much Adam left soon. "Eyes on me," Lucifer told everyone, leading the shaky and wide-eyed group through a final door. 

_Okay, you just traumatized like five people,_ Sam complained.

_Do you want the piece of Heaven? Yes? Then shut up._

"This is Adam's prom," Chuck said carefully. 

"Well, how do we take a piece?" asked Kevin. "Do we just reach out and grab something?"

"Normally, yes," Naomi said. "But the walls are weakening. We'll have to be careful."

"Like a game of celestial Jenga," Chuck said, shaking his head.

"I can see what you mean about the walls." Missouri walked over to the side of the dance floor, staring down at a spot of light Sam thought he could only see because Lucifer was sharing his vision. "Or, in this case, the floor."

"Well, what would be safe to take?" Sam asked. "And what'll happen if we choose wrong?"

"We could collapse the memory, for one," said Naomi nervously. She crouched down to eye the spot of light. "And we'll probably alert Metatron to our presence."

"This memory is much more stable than the ones we just went through, though," said Lucifer. "The last two lacked peace. Metatron doesn't want peace." 

Naomi nodded. "He wants a story. There are plenty up here."

"I don't like this set-up at all," Lucifer said, "but we need to move souls out before knocking these walls down. Otherwise, we'll trap and scar them."

"That's thoughtful of you," Naomi said. "Before the Cage, you wouldn't have cared, as long as your Heaven was what it used to be."

Lucifer pointedly did not respond, though Sam could feel embarrassment warm Lucifer.

_Awwwwww,_ Sam teased. Lucifer stung him, and from inside, he made a noise of protest.

"Anyway," Lucifer said, "we want something important to Adam, that he would remember, not just any old thing."

"What about that corsage?" Sam suggested, watching Adam dance with his date.

"That'd probably work," Lucifer said. "Naomi, I feel like you have a more delicate touch." He gestured to the place where Adam was dancing with his prom date. "Missouri and I will keep an eye on the crack." Lucifer knelt down and held out his palm, murmuring soft Enochian.

_If she's a warrior, what are you?_ Sam asked. Lucifer shushed him, chanting some more, hoping to seal the spot.

After a tense moment, the light faded, squeezed out. Naomi returned to Lucifer's side with the corsage.

"Back in my day," Lucifer complained, "we didn't have spells that included pieces of specific Heavens." He snatched the corsage from Naomi, taking a look at it, fascinated. "So, this is a dancing ritual?"

"Technically, yeah," Sam said.

Lucifer whispered,  _I'm more of an artist._

Sam smiled at that. He didn't smile for long, though. Commotion turned them around.

"This doesn't sound good," admitted Chuck with regret. "looks like there are people disappearing. And Adam's date looks confused."

"Okay," Lucifer said quietly, thinking. "Maybe you prophets could watch the room, and when things disappear, important things, I'll try to make them again. That should help?" 

"We have another option," Kevin pointed out. 

Chuck sighed the sigh of a man who shouldn't have gotten out of bed. Kevin smirked, realizing Chuck understood. 

"It might be easier," Kevin suggested. "We wait for Metatron to realize the room is crumbling. We _help_ it. Pretty easy."

"Wait for Metatron," Naomi said slowly. "Or the angel fixing the rooms. Either way, that's good. Lucifer and I can protect you. Gloria can listen in."

"His name is Michael," Gloria said suddenly, and Lucifer froze, icing over inside, unreadable. Sam reached out to the place where they met and tried to soothe him with his own warmth. "Michael is the angel with Metatron," she explained. "the angry one."

"We don't want Michael here. We'll make a sigil," Naomi decided. "They're not my strength." She turned to Lucifer. "You'll have to do it."

When it sat, big and bold in blood on the wall of the gym, they started to destroy Adam's prom.

"Everyone, rip streamers, cause commotion, and just generally make an ass of yourself," Lucifer said.

Little spots of light started to appear all over the gym.

***

When the room began to shake, and everything was bright and there was a faint buzzing, Sam became distracted by the wing amulet pulsing in warning. "Someone's coming!" Sam announced.

Everyone braced themselves. Many of them felt a shift in the air, a newness, but nothing else appeared to have changed. The room seemed to harbor the same amount of rising chaos. If something was there, it was hiding.

Sam pushed at Lucifer, wanting forward. Lucifer let him. "Naomi, shield everyone," Sam said, reaching for the pendant around his neck on a whim.  _Angels can hide themselves from things they know to hide themselves from,_ Sam said.  _What if the angel is here and no one else can feel it, just this?_

Lucifer made no real effort to stop Sam, but he did drag their feet a little.

The pulse of the pendant increased as they neared a woman in a gold sequin gown who had deep brown skin and a braided up-do. She stood, eyeing the writing on the wall, deep in thought.

Lucifer tapped her on the shoulder, and she jumped, turning around. She tilted her head slowly. "Lucifer?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.

Lucifer reached for her hands before he realized what he was doing, holding them in his own. Joy flooded him and leaked into Sam with tendrils that sought  _love_ and _family_. Lucifer's voice was choked as he stated, "Raphael."

Raphael gripped Lucifer's hands in turn. "You know Metatron'll be here soon, right? This is what he's doing to our home, Lucifer." He looked around some more, hands warm against Lucifer's skin. "I've been trying to help, of course. But Metatron moves quickly, and he does a lot of damage."

"Gabriel's here, too," Lucifer said suddenly. Raphael gasped silently, the soft brown eyes of his vessel glowing with relief. "All of us, actually," Lucifer said with amusement. "Michael's playing teacher's pet, I'm making a mess, you're cleaning up, and Gabriel's trying to find Balthazar's weapons."

"I know where they are," Raphael said. "At least, I think I do. I can't get in, though."

The room trembled a little more, and Lucifer watched in amazement as Raphael let go of his hands and began work, healing spot after spot. 

"Maybe we should just tear the walls down," Lucifer said. "After moving the souls."

"I'm one archangel. Purgatory's souls, I can handle, for a while. This? I'm not dumb enough to attempt."

"You're right," Lucifer sighed. "We need help."

"This is uninhabited, so we could let it fall. But the sigils are going to break if that happens, and Michael following us while wearing Adam can't mean anything good, can it?" Raphael asked, while still mending patches of light. 

"Maybe we could trap him inside, for a while," Lucifer said. "Lure him here, lock him in Adam's Heaven, just until we finish the spell."

"His fallen won't like that. They don't have a set cause yet, but if their archangel is trapped up here, they'll find a way to bust him out." Resentment welled in Lucifer at that truth. 

_No more than your demons did for you,_ Sam pointed out.  


_The demons aren't my brothers, Sam._  


"No they won't," said Lucifer with determination. "Not before we get back to him."

Lucifer blasted icy bright energy at the wall of the gym with the fresh sigil on it. The wall split apart, cracks forming and gaping open, letting dangerous light in and rendering the sigil useless. The sigil was grafitti, a mural, only good for decoration in the already streamer-strewn gymnasium.

"Come and get me!" Lucifer screamed. "I'm at Adam's prom, you faithless worm!"

Sam actually pulled back inside his body just a little.

Naomi met Lucifer's gaze. He nodded, and Naomi flew the rest of the humans away. The gym shook a little more. Sam glanced around at the people from the memory as they screamed and ran. There were people disappearing, and people pulling at the doors.

After Lucifer had revealed that Sam's prom date was just another member of Azazel's army, Sam had considered his prom experience a poor one. It had nothing on the situation at hand, though.

Sam snorted in inappropriate, half-desperate amusement.

_What's so funny?_ Lucifer asked, distracted, sounding just a bit afraid.  


_Just...you're actually wearing me to the prom,_ Sam pointed out.  


_What? Obviously,_  Lucifer said.  _That's not funny._

_Never mind. Just...never mind._

A large burst of energy split the cracks in the room further apart. The music echoing in the gym ceased to play all at once, as if even the sound equipment had to hold its breath.

Lucifer trembled, but he planted his feet firmly on the dance floor, his whole body alert. Raphael's dress glittered gold in the excess of light.

Sam suddenly remembered that he was a vessel, a thin covering made of thoughts and skin and emotions, a thing that might need to be discarded, if it wore out. Like a stylish dress, he might only get to attend one grand event before he was hung up forever.

And the back of the closet was currently in chaos.

And he'd never, ever get to make up with Crowley.


	24. A Dog in the Hand ("making up afterwards")

The ground shook even more beneath Sam's feet as Michael approached, the gaps in the wall and floor of the gymnasium gaping and spilling out light, the cracks crumbling apart. The entire wall where the Michael-banishing sigil had once stood proudly came crashing down cleanly on all four sides, leaving a pile of rubble and a perfect, rectangular-shaped hole behind. The hole, which led somewhere too bright and too full of shimmering shadows all at once, didn't looked like it boded well for trespassers at all.

Lucifer stepped in front of Raphael just moments before Michael appeared, standing behind the line of rubble. 

The whole room went suddenly still, save for the reactions of the people in Adam's remembered world. They were still terrified, screaming and trying to escape through locked doors. Michael snapped coolly, and they disappeared. 

One prom dress glittered in the moving light still. Raphael, behind Lucifer, remained, not a memory. Michael tilted his head at the angel he'd thought dead. 

"Raphael?" he asked, puzzled, disappearing and reappearing behind Raphael. "What are you doing here?" Lucifer whipped around protectively, eyes on Michael.

"Cleaning up," Raphael said. "Most of the time, anyway."

"You're a good brother. And a good son," Michael said, voice oddly quiet. "You wanted to help us. You _died_ trying to get us out. Unlike Gabriel, who tried to put us in. Of course, that was after he met," Michael looked Lucifer's vessel up and down with distaste, "the Winchesters."

"What's your point, Michael?" Lucifer said coolly.

"That they're deadly. All three of them. Raphael, you died at the hands of _their_ corrupted angel. He was the one who burned me in the graveyard, who took Sam Winchester's body but forgot his soul. Heaven's oil. Combine him with Hell's spark and the oxygen of the Earth, and we're all done for. You think you can put your faith in Sam Winchester, Lucifer. You can't. He's the reason we were trapped in the first place."

Lucifer shifted a little on Sam's feet. 

"They left Adam for dead in there, remember? Their own _brother_. How much less they must think of _you,_ " snarked Michael.

"So what?" Lucifer asked.

Michael drew himself up, and said, "So, there's something wrong with you. Again."

_He always thought it was his job to fix me,_ Lucifer shared, dubious.

Michael's voice softened dangerously. "I think step one is to go right the root of the problem, don't you?"

Sam swallowed.

"Where's Metatron, Michael?" Lucifer asked in distraction. "Doing his rounds? Finding more stories? It's dangerous."

"Right now, Metatron is helping me fix you, actually."

"How?"

"Call it step two. You really should quit all this 'Sympathy from the Devil' crap. We know how you really feel about humans, and your precious demons. We've seen it play out, way too many times."

Lucifer's eyes sparkled, the power of changing tides behind them. "Kind of like the way you always thought Dad was alive? Because you don't now. The Cage is like any other prison, Michael. You think, you re-prioritize. So you gave up on dad. Welcome to the club. Maybe I _did_ find Sam to be good company. I was lonely. In some ways, I was even lonelier than the last time."

"You had me," Michael said. "I tried to keep us from falling in." 

"Yeah, to stick to the plan," said Lucifer. "And some great company you were. You terrified me, and you threatened Sam."

" _Sam_ ," Michael said, suddenly furious and spitting. "Is this really what's going to come between us, little brother? A vessel?"

"Centuries have come between us. Petty fights, fights that _meant_ something, different goals and ideologies. _Dad._ Don't make this about Sam. I was excited about him from the start. My _perfect_ vessel. Less blood to drink, a more powerful connection. You probably don't understand. It's different for the rest of you. You were't cut off from Heaven's power. You didn't have to make your own."

"You're a freak!" Michael exclaimed. "This behavior is erratic, misguided at best. Humans are worth saving, and vessels worth appreciating. But, Lucifer, he's not a human, not after what Azazel did to him. You've become so blinded to the truth."

"Maybe the truth has already set me free," challenged Lucifer.

"No, little brother. That's _my_ job."

Lucifer bristled, swallowing. "Meaning what?" 

Michael seemed to stare through rather than at Lucifer as he looked into the borrowed hazel eyes intently. "Meaning this: If you can make an exception for one 'human', so can I."

Michael raised his hands up with ease, almost casual about it. Sam felt a hot stinging in his skin, in his muscles and veins, digging in all the way down to the bone. The heat turned white and unreal, like Sam was cooking right where he stood. He screamed, but no sound came out.

There was only a ringing, aching silence and a dark the depths of which Sam could feel closing in all around him and pulling away from him in churning, emptying turns.

***

Heaven was a high-definition realm full of brotherly hugs and tears cried into his father's jacket. It held perfect Kansas sunsets and the mountains of California, it captured the starry nights and highway roads that had been constants in his life, and those awe-inspiring hunts where they'd saved _everyone_.

Heaven was a place full of the drinks and dreams and dances Sam had shared with company he hadn't been allowed to keep, but the memories were all his. Heaven was for pranks and heartfelt phone calls and Sam's first ever conversation with his mother.

But it only took one aching-sweet memory of the Cage for Sam to worry. He could just imagine what would happen if too much time passed with him dead. Lucifer would find a new vessel, somewhere. He'd _care_ about the vessel, and they'd help Lucifer change; Lucifer wouldn't even have to beat them into submission first.

It only took one good memory of cuddling with Crowley for Sam to realize that _he'd_ find someone easier to deal with, too. A better match, someone a little demon-grade manipulation wouldn't faze. 

Why had Sam thought it was a good idea to try and punish Crowley for something he'd done as a demon? Amelia _had_ distracted Sam and comforted him after Dean's death. She'd saved him like Ruby had. Sam still wished to hell he could hate demons as much as Dean, but he'd never be Dean, and trying to be just turned him into a freak, every time.

Sam's Heaven started out reminding him of Dean's love, of good times spent with friends growing up and good times with Amelia and Jess, but the worse Sam felt, the worse the memories got. Drinks and tourist attractions and brotherly hugs turned into screw ups, name-calling, the death of a love interest. Cuddles turned into that fight he'd last had with the demon.

Sam was in the middle of shooting Madison so she couldn't kill again when a voice said, "Hoo. This your idea of Heaven, Sam?"

Sam closed his eyes and sucked in a breath through his nose, opening his eyes again as he pulled the trigger. "Ash," he acknowledged. He wasn’t alone anymore. He wasn’t sure whether that was a relief or an annoyance.

"Good to know the ol' Dead Winchester signal's still workin'."

The memory of Madison's death faded into one that took place in an obnoxiously pink-and-turquoise diner Sam wasn't sure he remembered. The gun disappeared from Sam's hand.

"Yeah, well," Sam said as he turned around and idly wondered what sort of signal that was, "Michael killed me, to get back at Lucifer."

"Sympathy from the Devil, huh? Just like Raphael said," Ash said in amusement. 

Mildly taken aback at the casual way Ash mentioned Lucifer, Sam’s mind fixed on the other part of the statement. "You talk to Raphael?" 

"Well, who else is he gonna chat with? We've run into each other more than enough to have told Metatron, but we never do." 

"Huh."

"You must be one hell of a ride, Sam. Demon wanted Jo to return your secret feelings, and now this shit, from Satan?"

"She...told you about that? How is she?" Sam asked uncertainly.

Ash chuckled. "Just lemme scribble on this door, and you can see for yourself."

***

"Wow," Sam exhaled, trying not to feel overwhelmed by seeing everyone again, and utterly failing.

It was Bobby he clung to the most, lingered over, that same old Old Spice smell, the same gruff beard and strong hug, all familiar, all comforting. Besides Dean, he'd been Sam's closest friend. Hell, sometimes they'd been closer than he'd been to Dean.

"Metatron said you guys were stirring up trouble," Sam sniffed, looking around as he pulled away from Bobby at last, tears springing to his eyes. He was being hugged, and pat on the back, and greeted, and... _loved_. And _remembered_. 

"That may just be the first piece of truth to ever come out of that crooked mouth," Ellen said, taking Sam by the arm to lead him to the bar. "C'mon and have a seat. I'll get you a drink."

Sam savored it, unsure how something could seem so real in Heaven, the burn familiar and grounding. "This place," he said without looking up from his glass. "Is it hidden?" 

"From your best friend Satan? No," Rufus said. He waved off Ellen’s offer of a drink, pouring from his own bottle of whiskey.

Sam shrugged. Yeah, that was what he’d meant. He’d changed so much since they’d seen him back on Earth. He’d probably changed _too_ much.

"What really matters is we're hidden from Metatron," Jo explained. “So, the answer is yes.”

"I know how to draw a sigil to keep Michael out too," Sam shared, daring to glance at her before looking away again.

"Sam," Raphael said, breaking into the moment like he broke into the bar.

Sam left the drink he'd been poured and left the awkward tension with Jo, turning to face the angel.

"With Gabriel's help, we've managed to keep Michael in Adam's prom. The situation is tentative."

Sam nodded, running a hand through his hair. 

"Adam? As in, your brother?" asked Bobby. The awkward tension was back.

"Yeah. S-spell. To save him from Michael."

Bobby frowned. "Will that work?"

"It should,” Sam said. His eyes darted to the tumbler on the bar. "Cas found it."

"Well, listen." Bobby stepped a little closer, more in Sam’s line of sight. Sam met his gaze again. "Cas is great and all, but maybe we should get a second opinion."

Raphael smirked, in agreement with Bobby. "It isn't a permanent solution by any means. But the Winchesters want to save their brother, and there would be a tactical advantage in carrying through with the spell. Damage a vessel, you get five minutes. Kick an angel out for good, and you have _days_ , at least. Trust me," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Where'd this spell come from, though?" asked Rufus.

Raphael frowned and turned to Sam, apparently not having thought of that.

"One of the Men of Letters was a prophet. The Chuck type, not the Kevin type. Wrote out stuff in Enochian, but could barely read English. He was more of...an honorary member. A sort of...novelty. It's because of him they even knew about soul magic in the first place."

"So, let me get this straight," said Bobby. "We're gonna trust the intel of Heaven's weirdest angel, presumed source of which being some dead guy who tripped into Jesus land on occasion and scribbled out magical recipes for a bunch of pretentious bookworms?"

"Well, Cas isn't an angel anymore," Sam corrected, "but, yeah, basically."

"Great. That helps. This seems completely sane now." Bobby rolled his eyes.

Sam smirked and looked over at Bobby. After a moment, Bobby had to smile back and laugh. "I've missed you," he said, wearing one of the soft expressions he saved for Sam. It made Sam's fear of what everyone thought of him ease just a little. "I assume Archangel's here to take you back to Lucifer?"

"No, not yet," Raphael said in a low tone, eyes scanning the environment of the Roadhouse. "There's a situation up here."

"Well, can't it wait?" asked Jo. "Just a few minutes? He didn't get to see everybody yet."

"Metatron attacked Naomi. She fled for her life, and the humans were scattered to their separate Heavens. Socializing doesn’t take precedence." His voice was cool, almost pitying in its disgust.

"Is she gonna be alright?" Sam asked, trying to catch Raphael’s disdainful gaze.

"Unlikely. But, she needs my help. And I need yours." Raphael finally began a visual sweep of the humans in the bar, quick, mechanical. "Sam, you know where to go. The rest of you know how to get there."

Sam swallowed as the flap of wings marked Raphael's immediate departure. "No pressure or anything," he muttered to his old friends.

***

"I'll scan for your brother and the angel whisperer," said Ash. "Meanwhile, Pamela's got her radar on your psychic and the stay-at-home prophet. Teen prophet, she'll see what she can do, but Sam thinks he don't wanna be found."

"I don't think he's suicidal, but he definitely came up here for a reason," Sam explained. "He's probably with his mother, Linda."

"Gotcha. Linda Tran," noted Ash. "As for Castiel, we don't know if he's got himself a Heaven or not. He wasn't born human, hasn't died human. We just don't know."

"He could even be with Dean," Jo pointed out.

Sam could picture it, the two of them hanging out, connected by whatever string of fate they were connected by Sam sometimes wished he had ahold of too.

"Could be," said Ash. "One other thought: Did he have a favorite spot, a place he went all the time?" 

It took Sam a moment to realize all his friends were waiting for his input, every single one of them depending on him knowing Cas's likes and dislikes. All the friends he had already let down.

Favorite place? Dean might know, but Cas didn't really tell Sam about himself. "I found out he killed hundreds of angels on this one hill." He read the room. Despite his dark amusement, this earned him only looks of surprise and concern from his friends.

"Never mind." Sam downed the rest of his drink.

***

"So, wait. His reading's coming from our Heaven? How come I didn't see Dean when I died?" Sam asked Ash cautiously. He was half ready for the answer to have to do with Lucifer, or all his time in Hell, or the fact they'd just grown too apart to ever register as soul mates again.

"Put it this way, Sam: You were in jail, he's just visiting."

Sam raised a brow, thinking that was an apt way of putting it. "Fair enough." Maybe it wasn’t so personal after all.

Chuck, Missouri, and Dean were all easy enough to find, and, soon enough, Ellen poured them drinks at the bar as they huddled around Ash's scanner.

"See this? That's Cas, talking," Ash pointed to the screen. "Angel S.O.S., pretty much. And that one there is Gloria. Her location is all over the place."

"I bet you anything, if she can hear him, she's trying to find him," Missouri said, amused. "I've never met anyone so determined to save all the angels." Knowing her better than any of the rest of them, Missouri went out to find Gloria, taking along Pamela and Dean (who was armed with a few of Heaven's weapons). Sam opted to wait, thinking his dead state wouldn't be of too much help to them. He wasn't exactly psychic anymore either.

They had barely left when there was a firm knock at the door. When Jo answered, she took a step back. It wasn't a member the group at all. Meg poked her vessel's head inside the Roadhouse to look around. 

"Dammit!" said Bobby. "And I was just starting to like this place, too."

"Meg! What the hell are you doing here? Gabriel said—"

"Angela found this spell, when she followed Cas to the bunker," Meg said quickly. "Anyway, your archangel's outside."

Sam frowned. "Why doesn't he just...come in?"

"Well, he's nothing but a blinding ball of light screeching at me, and he got you killed, so he's not too keen to come in here where all your hunter pals are holed up." She walked over to the bar. "Hey, can I have something to drink?" she asked, eyes honest and tired. "We're dealing with some shit on the ground, and they told me it was hangover free."

"You aren't welcome here," Ellen said seriously, eyes cold and hard. "You take Sam if you gotta, but get."

Meg crossed her arms, frowning slightly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You got angel screech in your ears? You killed my daughter, and you assaulted her while wearing Sam. So, no, you don't get a drink. You don't get to stand in here, crossing your arms at me in my bar. You get to leave. And that's generous."

Meg hesitated, then looked over her shoulder at the doorway. In silence, she nodded at Ellen, then at Jo. Quickly, but with an odd sort of dignity, she walked out with no further encouragement.

"I'm sorry, you know," she called into the bar before Rufus shut the door firmly behind her. 

Jo turned away from everyone slightly. "Maybe you should go, Sam. Seems like they went through trouble to get here. She said they needed your help."

Sam nodded carefully. "Okay," he said. "Bye, everyone." He watched Jo, then Ellen, then Bobby as he stood to leave.

"Goodbye, kid," Bobby said. "See you soon enough."

"I'll make sure Gabriel leaves you guys with some of the weapons. Chuck?" Sam said.

Chuck got off his stool and followed Sam out of the Roadhouse.

***

"So what's the big emergency?" Sam asked Meg, and the collection of shimmer and shadow that was Lucifer's true form.

Lucifer, the light and energy of him, reached out and touched Sam gently. He slinkingly wrapped himself around Sam's right hand, his wrist and his arm.

"Dean's camp is under attack," Meg told Sam and Chuck.

"What?!"

Lucifer poured himself over Sam's skin slowly, distracting Sam.

"How bad is it down there? And what's he doing?" Sam asked, blinking at Lucifer.

"You died," Chuck pointed out. "And you're more...pure now, right, after the trials? Maybe he needs the demon blood."

"The blood prophet strikes again. What is it with you?" Meg said. Chuck just shrugged.

Sam's arm tingled for a moment, then seemed to pull inexplicably apart in a thousand intricately tiny ways. Lucifer pushed his light and shadow inside Sam in the next breath, the next three, with driving, steady force, spreading apart his cells, seeping in quick and splintering like a mild acid pouring through the cracks in a wooden deck. Sam cried out, jerked, made a little whimper of pain. Lucifer hurried to soothe him with his powers, offering all the peace and healing he could scrounge up. "I'm sorry," he said with regret.

Inside of Sam's body, Sam clung to Lucifer.

Lucifer reached out for Chuck and Meg, eyeing them as he asked, "Are you still armed?" When they said they were, he flew them into the middle of the chaos.

There was smoke in the sky. Blades clanged, hellhounds growled, and cabins crumbled. The smoke in the air came from the large ring of holy fire looped around a pair of cabins, the last ones to remain virtually intact. 

Angels were flying, and demons were teleporting. Sam didn't recognize some of the demons at all, but he saw Meg, Faith, and Angela. It was a sea of black smoke and burning vessels and ferociousness, more demons than Sam had ever see in one place trying to stand their own against seven angels.

In a whoosh of air, Abaddon appeared.

"You made it!" Lucifer said.

"Not easily. Up to my neck in invasion threats," she complained.

There wasn't much more time to talk.

_Looks like Metatron sent us a few full-powered angels,_ Lucifer told Sam as he dodged and attacked, trying to defend his demons. 

_These guys are really strong, though,_ Lucifer complained as he struggled. _Like, stronger than they should be._

_Spell, do you think?_ Sam asked weakly. He didn't feel very good. It was probably the lack of demon blood. Two cups every few days and they were usually good to go, but Sam had nothing in his system. He tried not to think about it. He still ached from Lucifer's...fullness, the wrong sort of full like two hands in his skull. That Lucifer was fighting with such intensity wasn't helping the stretch and pull Sam's body, or his mind, for that matter.

Raphael soon appeared, which evened the score a little. He had Dean, Missouri, Cas, and Gloria with him. As Lucifer glanced at Dean, Dean held a small white box out at one of the approaching angels, opening it and muttering something, and light came out of the angel, pouring into the box. While the angel lowered to the ground and stared, confused and weakened, Raphael went in for the kill.

Lucifer snickered. _I used to love that thing. Great at parties._

After the group took out another angel, Sam finally said, _Lucifer, it hurts._

_Your body?_

_Everything. I feel like I'm losing myself._ After all the times he'd been with Lucifer, all the pain and the shame and the fear he'd had to live with every day for so very long, he was proving to be just like every other vessel in the end. He'd turn into mush sloshing around in a zoned-out shell, alive, body in-tact, but lost.

_Just a little longer. I'll call for back-up. I promise._

When Naomi showed up, weak but willing, Lucifer grabbed the closest demon that smelled like blood and took Sam to the forest.

"Really, Lucifer? Bela?" Sam said.

"She was close to us, and she's injured. What? Bela, arm out, and hold nice and still." Lucifer smirked.

Bela rolled her eyes. "I'm supposed to be watching Abaddon's back. But, I don't suppose she'd mind." She held out her bleeding arm and coaxed Sam closer. "You'll heal me afterward?"

"We will," Sam promised. Lucifer pushed Sam back a little inside the body. "I'll take it from here." Lucifer preceded to drink exactly what they needed.

As Lucifer held out his hand to heal her, the sound of a growl startled them.

"Shut up," called Crowley, stepping into view just after the surprisingly normal dog. 

Sam pushed past Lucifer. "Crowley," he breathed.

"Brought you a bit of a peace offering," Crowley said with a nod to the dog. "Didn't realize we'd be in such short supply of peace, or I'd have brought more. What are you doing out here? Fine night for a threesome in the forest," he teased lightly.

"Sam needed blood," Bela explained. 

"Michael killed him, so his system's been wiped. If you were a little sooner, I'd have made him drink you instead," Lucifer teased without teasing.

"I'd have let you," Crowley said with a careful little smile, talking to Sam and not Lucifer. "Sounds kinky."

Sam chuckled, then let his amusement fade into a half smile. He had a fleeting thought that maybe if he held Crowley's gaze long enough, the fighting would disappear. It could be just the two of them again, and Lucifer, for another few months. Arguing, making up, introducing a dog into their happily ever Armageddon.

Maybe he could tell Crowley how much he'd regretted not making up before he faced death head-on. Maybe he could let him know the Amelia thing was mostly in the past, water under Make-Out Bridge, even if it still sucked. 

"Is that dog really for me?" Sam blurted out instead.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. She's not exact, mind you, but she does look just a bit like the real thing."

"What real thing?"

"Well, the real _fake_ thing," Crowley said. "Our old pal, Riot."

Sam stiffened a little, but he forced himself to draw a breath in and relax some of the tension away again. "I don't wanna do this. Right now," he added. "People are, you know, dying?" 

"Understood," Crowley said with a hint of disappointment.

Once sure they were all ready, Lucifer flapped them all back into battle.

***

By the time the last two angels flew away without warning, six humans were definitively dead, seventeen demons were burnt-out messes, and five hellhounds were down for the count. Two of the hellhounds had been killed more gruesomely than the others, like the stabbing was for more than just self-defense. Crowley grew quiet and turned away after it was brought to everyone's attention, slinking away from the corpse pile.

"Did Angela go somewhere?" Sam asked. "She's the only one not accounted for."

"I tried her phone. Nothing," Meg said with worry in her gaze.

Abaddon reappeared, after helping herd the rest of the hellhounds and demons back downstairs. "Just found out there was a break-in while we were dealing with this angel drama. I figure it's your fault, Lucky," she said to Crowley, who was quietly petting the dog he'd brought. "Hell's defenses meant something once."

Crowley turned to look at Sam, confused. "Well, last one to break in was Sam here. Stole my collectible, snuck him up to Heaven, all so he could close the gates of Hell."

They eyed Sam, and he winced. "I left the back door in Purgatory open," he offered bravely. "Didn't I?" He lowered his head. Great. Again, he was careless enough to put an entire world in serious risk. Over and over again. What was he doing back on Earth?

"Yeah, kid, you did.  _Thanks_ for that," she rolled her eyes. "Had monsters wanting a tour. Some of them actually thought we were a step up from Fangville." She glared at Crowley. Sam looked up. "Can't imagine why. We closed that door months ago, though. People don't usually bust in, even to escape the monsters in God's closet."

Not exactly the security risk Sam had been picturing.

"You think that book-hoarding secretary's trying for a repeat performance?"

"Who'd be stupid enough to try out the trials?" Sam snorted.

"Someone who didn't know they'd die," Crowley said. "Angels can't read, and Metatron's not exactly forthcoming."

"Angela's a demon, and she's missing," Lucifer pointed out. 

"Ah. Right. Think someone snuck her off for a little curing? Would explain the mutilation of the poor hounds too."

"I am so pissed off right now!" Abaddon said.

"We need to find Angela, if he took her," said Sam, figuring he'd earned the right to be considered an expert on the trials. "You two need to figure out if an innocent made it out, and the angels will check if the soul made it to Heaven." Sam's eyes were on Dean, who was on the other side of the pile of corpses. "And I'll be right here, if you have questions."

***

"Are you okay?"

"No, Sam! I'm not okay. Look at this place. Two cabins left, six people dead. People I've been fighting alongside for _months_. Is he in you right now?" 

Sam nodded, wary. 

"Get him out of you."

"Dean," Sam sighed. 

Inside of the body, Lucifer tiptoed forward past Sam. "Dean," he said. "I'm sorry." He waved a hand and floated Dean a drink, looking concerned. Dean eyed the full glass, then Lucifer, gaze cold and dead.

"No thanks, Lucifer," said Sam with a swallow, taking the glass from the air to get it out of the way.

"You bring them back," Dean growled lowly at the archangel inside of his baby brother. "Now!"

Lucifer tilted his head.

"They're all dead because _you_ were supposed to learn some lesson."

Dean yanked the glass out of Sam's hand and stalked off with it.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," Lucifer said as he and Sam watched Dean leave.

"Don't we have everything?" asked Sam, closing himself off from Lucifer. "DNA, angel tears, assorted herbs, a Heavenly corsage, blood of Adam's blood, and Michael, trapped? Is that it?"

"We just need Dean's blood."

"Is there...something wrong with mine?" Sam asked, hating to ask but knowing he'd regret not asking much more in the end.

"Chuck had a vision it would be Dean's blood. He hasn't been wrong yet."

"You're just saying that because he likes you."

"Like I said, he hasn't been wrong yet."

Sam laughed.

Cas piped up from behind Sam, causing Lucifer and Sam to jump. "Perhaps I could go talk to him, and get the blood from him."

Sam turned around. "Sure thing, Cas. Thanks."

"I'll check on Michael and try to locate the innocent," Lucifer said. "I'm sure you'll find some way to occupy yourself til I get back." He took a long, pointed look at the dog.

*** 

"Present from your boyfriend?" Missouri asked, walking over.

Sam nodded, unable to hide a smile at the thought. The word still sounded nice.

"She's sweet," Missouri said, reaching out to pet her. "He's calling her Risk."

Sam turned to her, eyes wide. "You can tell that from just being near her?" 

"No," she said, amused. "I heard him calling her over. Just goes to show you, sometimes it pays to keep your ears open."

"Does it?" Sam asked, smirking as they both pet the dog with appreciative scratches and strokes. "What am I closing my ears to?" 

"Your boyfriend, about the veterinarian. He wants to talk to you some more, and you should let him."

"Okay," Sam said with some uncertainty, watching the movement of Risk's fur under his fingers. "Do you really have to go?"

"I really have to go."

"Thank you, then," Sam said seriously, glancing up. "For coming, for helping us. And, for...."

She smiled at him softly, knowingly. "And for my support. You deserved it then, Sam, and you still deserve it now. Give yourself a little credit; most people don't come out of Hell looking like you." She put a hand on his arm. "Call me sometime. It's the same number I gave you all those years ago. You still got it?"

"Yeah," he admitted with a hint of embarrassment. "I really should have called."

"Boy, it's the end of the world. We don't have much time for should haves. So, come here." She stepped close and hugged him tightly again, like she had the day before, and he sighed, closing his eyes. 

"You're welcome, Sam," she said to the thoughts he didn't voice, that he couldn't. "You've been punished enough."

A tiny part of Sam did feel a little welcome. To love, to absolution and happiness. To the kind words of a psychic he'd first met at his first low point, and had met again after what had felt like a million more.


	25. Bark ("gazing into each other's eyes")

Something was different about Sam, and as they disposed of the corpses together, as they helped with setting up the tents and figuring out what supplies would need to be bought, as Sam scratched the dog behind the ears and cooed to her, Crowley pondered what it was.

Sam had been lesser, somehow, when he'd fought against Lucifer, Cas, the Leviathan, Crowley, Lucifer, and Crowley again, and now he was...more.

Maybe it was honesty. Sam spoke up about where his tent should be, like he actually had an opinion about something trivial, and he asked Crowley if he wanted to share, like it was a bag of popcorn and not a place to sleep. Warmed Crowley's heart, actually. Gave him that old ember of hope, fanned it nicely.

Wasn't just the honesty. Sam was more...forward about getting what he wanted, maybe. He wasn't afraid to tell his brother he needed him over the phone, and that they all wanted him back, safe. He wasn't afraid to remind Dean of how far Lucifer had come.

It was a nice change.

"What's up?" Sam asked Crowley, pulling some of his hair behind his ear. "You've been thinking so hard you forgot you were helping. You're just, you know, staring."

Crowley looked at the neat stack of boxes on the dusty shelf and felt a heavy sense of pride wash over him like a chemical shower. Sam, the bus boy. Sam, the maintenance man. Sam, the room organizer. Humble, content. "You're lovely, is all," he admitted, like it was a long time coming.

Sam snorted. Crowley wasn't being funny, though.

"And you're different. _Good_ different. It's stunning, really. Captivating."

Sam raised a brow in amusement. "If you really don't want to help anymore, go have a seat. It's okay."

"It's not that. Really."

Sam tilted his head. "Well, I already forgave you for the stuff with Amelia."

He gently touched Sam's cheek for a moment. "It's not that either. It's just that you look...happier."

"Happier?" Sam frowned, kicking at a lone box near the toe of his boot until he could turn toward Crowley with more ease. Crowley stepped closer too, close enough he could easily put his hands on that tiny waist if he reached out, could get a nice grip on those palmable hips, if he really wanted, and, with just a bit of leaning in, could kiss the man silly. If it was the right moment for all that, and he wasn't sure it was. It was a moment for _something_ , but probably not that.

"Yeah," Crowley said, more softly. "Happier might be it. You... _own_ you, a little more. Like maybe you get that it makes sense someone would just stand around and watch you rearrange boxes."

Sam ducked down with a quick fall of hair and shared a brush of lips that lingered just a bit longer than he seemed to mean it to. "I'm still interested in meeting the demon who played Amelia. Just to clear the air." His eyes were full of soft, sweet trust. "I want her to be able to get some closure, if she needs it. We were a mess, but she was good to me. It must be a weird situation for both of us."

Crowley paused and sized Sam up. Sam stood up just a bit straighter in response, wondering what the man was looking for. "I could probably set something up," Crowley muttered, trying not to give anything away. "If that's what you'd really like." 

"It is. Wait, though. Don't cry? Please?" The demon had tears in his eyes Sam couldn't make sense of. He fumbled, "I...I won't...it's still about you, okay?" He reached out, hand on Crowley's arm to reassure him. "My thing with Amelia? It's over. I have you now."

"Don't think I don't know that. Never mind this reaction because it's been a strange day. Go back to your boxes, you big galoot. They won't stack themselves." 

"Didn't know you were aware of that, honey," Sam teased with the hint of a dimple before turning to greet his boxes again.

Crowley wiped his sleeve across his eyes, already starting to plan how Sam's meeting with the demon who played Amelia would go. Certainly a delicate situation. More delicate than Sam knew.

***

"I really don't know about this, Sam." It was hours later, and Sam was looking just a bit too keen on the idea. He wanted Crowley, Meg, and Faith to come up to Heaven to free Adam with Lucifer and the rest of the angels. Crowley was concerned about what the demons’ presence would do to Heaven’s already tenuous stability. 

" _I_ was okay," Meg allowed, "but, Sam, that could have just been cause I was with Lucifer. And we were in one of the most stable parts of Heaven. Adam's prom is totally Jenga, right?"

"Totally," Sam agreed. And then, with puppydog eyes and the genuine hope he was known for, Sam managed to convince her to cast the spell on Crowley and Faith anyway.

"It's okay, Moose," Crowley lied with quiet disappointment when Naomi finally put her foot down. He'd been missing Sam terribly, had wondered if they'd be over for good. It'd be nice to join together in battle again, as Sam's number one, just as it'd been nice to watch him sort boxes.

"Maybe I'll sit this one out," Sam said thoughtfully. Crowley turned to him and tried not to look too eager.

When the angels left, Sam shared that he figured he'd had his fill of Heaven for a good while anyway, and that he didn't suppose he'd mind the extra time alone with Crowley.

Crowley felt the familiar weight of the amulet against his chest and smiled.

***

Sam and Crowley walked the dog in the weaving woods, getting lost and finding their way again several times. After lunch, they watched  _Band of Brothers_ on the last working TV in the camp, inching gradually nearer to each other on the ripped sofa until their thighs and shoulders brushed like the cautious greeting of old friends who'd let the years slip them by and had much to say.

They dusted a few of the wooden shelves when they tired of sitting, all the time laughing and reminiscing, with others and with just the two of them.

"It's like our old nights together right now, isn't it?" Crowley said with a bright grin. They'd cleaned the bloodstains out of the surfaces of Lucifer Headquarters until their arms had ached, just to give themselves something constructive to do. 

"Yeah," murmured Sam, a little amazed. Then, he laughed. "Oh my god. We fell in love like _this_. We had passionate nights of _housekeeping_."

Crowley leaned over to peck Sam on the cheek slyly. "Well, I don't know about you, but I think I'd already fallen by then. I've always had a soft spot for you. Be crazy not to. Any demon or monster worth his salt wants you to make your dreams all come true."

Sam shifted a little, turning to look at Crowley more fully, his brow furrowed. "You know you don't need to flatter me, right?" he pointed out. "You're already in my pants."

"And in your heart, I hope. I can flatter you if I like, Moose. What's with the protest?" 

"Demons and monsters, Crowley. Not humans. They all like Dean," he swallowed but shrugged. "With good reason too."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Oh, you're just saying that cause you hate yourself. But you have awful taste, only exception being your interest in me. I'm not saying Dean isn't cool," he went on. "He possesses an incredible, unpredictable genius. He's a hero, in the traditional sense, a thing of legends, wet dreams, and movie deals. He has courage for miles, and self-loathing too."

A gentle, resigned smile flickered across Sam's face, then passed. "Not to mention the fact he practically raised me," he added. "He kept me from thinking the world was dark and hopeless more times than I could count. He's why I keep fighting. He's why I always will."

"He gave you a gift, Sam, and you've passed it on with a gentler hand. I happen to like your...delicacy better than the stuff of legends."

Sam smirked, searching Crowley's face. "You sure you're not just trying to make me feel better?"

"Sam," Crowley said. "Ever since we met, you've shown me that I'm still worth respecting, and even loving. No one told you I needed to be reminded. And I don't think you knew. That's just who you are. Ever notice how I wanted to keep every hurtful thing away from you, how I wanted to let you get off scot free from your consequences, all the while quietly dying to tell you how sexy and wise beyond your years you've always been?"

Sam raised a brow, gazing at Crowley in silence.

Crowley gaze was steady. "So, yeah. I'll compliment you as I like."

***

Sam watched their new guest stare at the cabin wall. "Maybe...I'll see if I can get through to him," he offered, voice soft and controlled on the surface, but a little helpless underneath.

He wished Dean weren't gone.

"You might as well try. I've done all I can do." Lucifer's face twitched slightly. He looked from Adam to Sam with a furrowed brow. 

"Adam?" Sam tried.

Adam's head turned slightly in response, but that was the extent of the response. The emptiness of the room, suddenly devoid of the angels who still had a demon and a prophet to find, and the emptiness of Adam's eyes crawled up Sam's throat. He coughed into his hand and remembered John Winchester's stubborn streak, remembered the hunger of a vengeful ghoul.

Approaching with care, Crowley turned Adam around, touch delicate but firm on his shoulders. "Hello, duckie," he tried. 

Adam blinked rapidly a few times, his gaze shifting a little, like it was either trying to focus or allow Adam to escape further. Otherwise, he made no response.

"Hungry, Adam?"

Something about the soft patience in Crowley's demeanor reminded Sam that, naive as everyone seemed to think he was, hope wasn't without precedent. Statistical miracles happened every day.

***

In the mess hall, Adam stared out the windows at the movement of the trees, much as Sam had done after his first flashback to the Cage.

"I'm Sam Winchester," he tried. "Um. I'm your brother. And this is Crowley. We, uh, made you soup."

Adam's arm was shaky with the spoon, and he didn't quite know what to do with it, sort of holding it out in the air as he stared at the trees, brow furrowing just slightly.

"We'll need to feed him," Crowley pointed out, easing the spoon out of Adam's grip. He made a few soothing noises as he put more soup in the spoon. He fed Adam a few times, more or less successful. Sam periodically dabbed at Adam's chin.

"We have another brother too, you know."

"He's nice too," Crowley offered. "Do anything for family."

"His name's Dean," Sam said. "He was Michael's Plan A?"

Adam shifted a little, teeth knocking into the spoon. Crowley pulled the spoon away, and Adam shook his head like he was trying to clear it.

"Sam," Crowley admonished. "Ixnay on the Ikemay." 

"Right. Sorry, Adam," Sam said, worried.

Adam shook his head again, making a soft noise low in his throat. 

"Ideas?"

"We should go outside, take a walk. The...place we were...had all this nature, you know?" Crowley raised a brow, interested. Sam bit his lip against a smile and continued. "Trees, deserts. Snow and ice. Fields. Lakes and ponds. But definitely trees. Like shelter and certain death. Kind of like Purgatory. But I wanted to see them. Maybe he'll want to too."

"Certainly sounds stimulating, anyway," Crowley agreed. He cleaned up as Sam dabbed Adam's face one last time.

***

"I don't think she'll bother him," Crowley said. "She's a good girl." He hooked up her leash as Sam took Adam by the hand.

Sam nodded. "It's probably fine. I called Dean again, told him about Adam. I'm worried, man," he sighed. 

"Any word from Castiel?"

"Sort of. Just said that Dean was acting weird."

"His powers of observation astound." 

Sam snorted. They walked into the forest at a slow pace, letting Risk and Adam explore.

Adam tilted his head at one of the nearby trees, seeming to actually focus on it. "You remember trees?" Crowley asked with interest. He walked Adam closer and guided his hand in touching the rough bark. 

The watched as Adam curled his fingers against the bark, as he shook Crowley's grip off and held onto the tree with both hands, swaying slightly. They watched as he turned his face, pressing his cheek against the scratchy trunk, his eyes closing.

He turned his face, pressing his cheek against the scratchy trunk, his eyes closing.

"Dean disappearing. It's like history repeating itself," Sam sighed. "Lucifer was what stood between us before. Lucifer thinks we were, you know, made for each other," he winced. "And we probably were. He said I was running toward him, that he was...my real family."

"You're his real family," Crowley said honestly. "He doesn't have to be yours. And, as for Dean? He'll be back. He's hurt, is all, but he's making efforts. He's been more thoughtful, more aware, ever since you told him how you felt."

"What?" Sam looked confused.

"Again," Crowley said, catching Adam's eye for a split second before Adam looked at the trees again. "I picked a real winner for a boyfriend. I was there when you made that speech, Moose. The one about how his harping on you brought about all that depression. I was groggy, almost completely devoid of hope, and guilt-laden, but I was there."

"So, I seem happier now?" Sam asked, stopping when Adam paused to tilt his head down and watch Risk.

"Like night and day." Crowley whistled and had her sit as he noticed Adam's sudden shift in focus. "That's a good girl," he said as she waited.

Bringing Adam a few steps closer, Sam carefully placed Adam's hand on Risk's head, helping him stroke softly. "This is Risk, Adam. She's a good dog. It's her first time exploring this forest, too."

"Who the hell is that?" 

Sam and Crowley whipped around, and Risk got up defensively, dislodging Adam's hand. 

"Is that Michael's meat suit?"

"Yes, it is. But you're supposed to be kidnapped right now, by a band of fallen angels," Crowley said with confusion.

"I don't need to hear about your fantasies, Crowley," Angela said. "Adam, right?" she asked Sam.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed, gesturing. "Adam, and this is Risk, our new dog." Angela stepped closer, not quite sure which she was more curious about. "Where were you, if you weren't with the angels? Lucifer and some of the others are out looking for you."

"Well, you jumped the Heavenly gun pretty quick, guys. I was just walking around." She gestured to the forest.

Crowley and Sam exchanged confused glances. "Hell of a walk," Crowley said uncertainly. 

"I don't think this thing's working right," Angela explained, shoving her cellphone at Sam, whose hand positively dwarfed it. "Meg's at camp, right?" 

She didn't even pretend to wait for an answer before disappearing.

***

"She just _walked_ up to you?"

"Right."

"Demons," Gabriel said, shaking his head. "Trouble. And, trust me, I know trouble."

Sam sighed. "Any luck with Kevin?" he asked.

"Yeah. Only, those friends of yours erased most of Kevin's tracks, and they're not at their bar."

"What? Why not?" demanded Crowley.

Gabriel just shrugged. "Linda Tran's not in her Heaven either."

"Move our tent out to the woods, maybe? What do you think?" Sam asked cautiously as Adam continued to be fascinated by the feel of the plants, by the smell of the damp earth, the faint hints of recognition and amusement warring with his blankness.

"Good idea, Moose."

"It's not exactly a romantic vacation, I know," Sam sighed. "I know babysitting...isn't really your thing. Hell, it's not _my_ thing. I'm sorry." He ran his hand through his hair. 

Crowley pulled Sam closer, offering a kiss Sam shyly met him for. 

"You know, Sam, I think there was a part of 'strapped in for the ride' that was beyond your Moose-like comprehension," Crowley said.

Setting up camp in the woods together, they watched the dog and the ex-vessel explore until the shadows turned into a blanket over the ground and the sun said goodnight in a far-away voice.

Adam didn't say goodnight in turn until Crowley covered the sleeping bag with a bunch of leaves and they left the lantern going. He eventually let himself drift off, though. Sam felt strangely proud.


	26. An Impossible Thing ("on one of their birthdays")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off-screen **character death**.

"Aside from Dean, no one has risked more for me," Sam said seriously from behind the angel-conjured podium. He paused to take a look around.

"He killed an angel before she could scatter my cells, but I guess he wasn't so lucky." Sam swallowed. The limp figure Gabriel and Lucifer had found lying on the ground in a pool of drying blood had been declared the new Humpty Dumpty to their king's men.

"He always came through for me in the end, you know? And...he's brave as hell. One time," he offered a weak smile, "he risked getting too close to a ring of holy fire just to tell Lucifer to back off. He told him he couldn't have me as his vessel. I went soulless for a while because he brought me back wrong. And when my memories got to me and my hallucinations got bad, he took them from me, at great risk to himself. Otherwise, there's no way I would have made it."

And Sam had never really returned the favor. Not when Cas had died while Sam was freeing Lucifer. Not when Lucifer had snapsploded Cas from inside Sam's body without Sam's permission. Not even when Sam's prayer had reminded Cas of the power of friendship, because the damage had already been done.

Still, the sight of him, bursting, bloody, post-revenge, and sorry, had been a sweet one. The thrill of hope he'd had when Cas had greeted him after he got his soul back, too, and the offer of a hug Sam had never taken him up on, they were good too.

"It was the less news-worthy things that meant the most to me." Sam smiled hesitantly, looked down because it was the only way he could go on. "Like I wasn't just a noble cause, or a charity case, you know? He used to make sure Dean and I were working together. He actually came and got me once, and told me he needed me."

Sam flinched, glancing back up.

Dean was still gone, was still pissed, was still not answering his phone. Sam would never be snatched up by Cas and taken to him ever again. Cas would never stand up for Sam again, would never further insist or defend. Did Dean even have a reason to come back now?

Sam started slightly when a glass was sat down in front of him on the podium. He looked over at his boyfriend with a blurring gaze. 

"Castiel was an idiot." Crowley held a glass of his own, raising it briefly before lowering it again and shrugging. "Oh, knowledgeable, sure. But also aimless. No idea where he was going, or what he was doing. No clear picture of who he _was_ ," he snorted, a faint smile in place as he looked around, everyone's attention demanded and held.

"He had a perspective and a wonder that was part innocence, part ignorance. He proved more than once that you don't need to have all your ducks in a row to _try_." He paused, glancing at Sam. Sam swallowed and met his gaze, unsure what the conspiratorial fondness meant.

"It's fair to say that he failed as an angel, as a human, as my enemy, my friend, as the man in charge of Heaven, a thousand times over. His life on Earth was journey of identity, a dramatic and hapless one where responsibility was hard-won and precious, one where he secured my faith in him, like he did for Sam here. And I feel this loss, in a way I don't have the words to describe." He gestured with his glass. "Castiel was an impossible thing."

An impossible thing. An angel who had disappointed and impressed Sam in turns, who had made him feel both valuable and worthless, who had drawn stupid little breathy sighs of his name from Sam because Cas was theirs, their friend, their protector, their charge.

His hero.

"Let's do this properly, eh?" Crowley raised his glass high and, to Sam's surprise, chanted in Enochian. The angels in the small crowd echoed the words. Even Lucifer, who was hanging back by the trees. It seemed to be a traditional recitation for the death of an angel, one of praise, one of remembrance. 

Meg stood up just as Sam and Crowley were getting ready to return to their seats. She looked over at them as she spoke, face a little pink as she avoided the eyes of the crowd. "He had this way of...looking at me, like he was seeing something I couldn't see, or like he wasn't seeing me right at all. He's strange, and I think that's his draw. He forces you to think, you know? He forces things to happen, to change, like he's a catalyst, or like he's both the rainbow and the hurricane."

"Cas drew this patience, and this _care_ out of me that I'd thought I'd lost for good. He told me I was beautiful, and magical, with soft hands, when I knew all I was inside was thick, black nothing. I was as lonely and pointless as Cas, I thought. But he made me see it differently than that."

"Nothing about Cas is obvious, or easy," she said. "But he always did have a point, even if it was misguided. So, thanks, Cas. Thanks for everything you did for me, on purpose and on accident." 

Instead of sitting down again, Meg walked toward the woods, avoiding Lucifer's gaze as she passed him and soon slipped out of sight. They buried the parts of Cas they had without her.

***

"They did it, Sam," Lucifer said around a bite, finger foods arranged haphazardly on his plate. 

Sam carefully smiled at the fallen angels he'd been talking to, turning to Lucifer. "Did what?"

"Closed the gates of Hell."

Sam took a long, "oh shit" pull of the drink in his hand. "Oh," he said, before glancing back at Lucifer. "So. All of them? Just...gone?"

"Take a good look at our army of four."

Sam ran his hand over his mouth. "Oh my god," he breathed out behind it.

"I know." Lucifer took Sam by the arm, leading him away from the angels. "Chilling, isn't it? No earthquake, no trumpet blaring, just an entire species wiped off the face of the earth in a single moment."

Sam swallowed guiltily. The trials were his thing. He should have known. He should have stopped it. "So, was it Angela? Is she okay?"

"Hard to say whether she's okay, but she's not exactly cured, so it wasn't her." Before Sam could relax, he added, "I'm not sure what to call her current state. She's full of demon smoke _and_ grace. Any suggestions?"

" _What?_ "

"I know. Normally, it doesn't happen. It would have killed her if the angel had been at full power. And yet, she's none the wiser."

"We need to tell her," said Sam. "She's going to be...different. She should know why." Sam headed toward her, but Lucifer stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"I want to see her discover this on her own. The two natures battling each other, winner takes all."

Sam shook his head. "Probably won't be like that. She'll learn to integrate the two." When Lucifer raised an eyebrow, Sam said, "I did."

"Sam, you had a trickle. She has a stream. If she wasn't hanging out with angels, she'd never know. Normally, she wouldn't be hanging out with angels."

Sam sent Lucifer a cold expression that made the archangel fidget. "Don't try to play the 'normal' card with me," Sam said. "I know you."

Lucifer shoved a whole cracker into his mouth and chewed petulantly. "We'll tell her in a few days," he decided, creating crumbs that fell onto Nick's human-looking shirt. "We have other secrets to spill first. Gabriel and I are working on procuring equipment at this very moment."

"Equipment?" asked Sam. "What, like some heavenly weapon?"

"No, genius. Like a video camera," Lucifer said with a small, irritated frown. He pushed the plate of food into the grasp of Sam's free hand. Sam stared at the pile of cheese and fruit for a moment before watching Lucifer approach the other angels. Most weren't at all receptive to him. 

"Right," Sam said, to Lucifer but mostly to no one. "I totally get it now."

***

An hour later, Sam was shifting a little in the metal folding chair, feeling exposed and about to be more so. Crowley was adjusting the front of the familiar white suit.

"Today was Amelia's birthday, you know," Sam shared quietly as Gabriel and Chuck fiddled with the camera in turns. 

Crowley ran fingers through Sam's hair a bit. "I remember. You were nervous, cause she'd thrown you for a happy loop with the cake. You weren't used to celebrating a birthday. You got antsy about the big day, and it was cute."

Sam snorted. "It was ridiculous. I just wanted to show her she was worth the trouble, you know?  Think I kind of missed the mark."

Crowley gave Sam's shoulders a squeeze. "You don't venture into baking by trying to impress someone. Would you lead your first hunt going up against the Seven Deadly Sins?"

Sam hummed in agreement. "No, I wouldn't. But, look, if I got a cake, she deserved one too. It was only fair."

"It was _only_ enough to set off the smoke alarm. Some men just don't belong in the kitchen, and you're one of them, darling." 

Sam stuck out his tongue.

"Gabriel," Lucifer said from inside Sam, startling Crowley. "It doesn't have to be a cinematic masterpiece. The part that matters most is the broadcasting, not the recording."

Turning to glance at the angel still playing around with the camera, Crowley pulled away a bit reluctantly from Sam with a final straightening of the shirt's collar. He took his place near Angela, Faith, and Risa.

"My name is Lucifer, and I'm talking to you, brothers and sisters. I'm talking to everyone who was affected by the fall. The fall was no accident, no punishment from God. It was the deliberate spell work of Metatron. And I'm tired of chaos.

"You know the Winchesters freed the Word. They found the scribe too. He upstarted everything we cherish. He's granting powers back as a means of control. And I'm all in. I'm willing to make a deal with Michael," Lucifer shared. "I'm not the enemy. We've all fallen, except for Metatron.

"You know the Winchesters freed the Word. They found the scribe too. He upstarted everything we cherish. He's granting powers back as a means of control. And I'm all in. I'm willing to make a deal with Michael," Lucifer shared. "I'm not the enemy. We've all fallen, except for Metatron.

"We've sang together, celebrated the splendor of Heaven. We're family, and if we take down Metatron, we can work on making Heaven look the way it once did, before this industrialization, and before this 'remodeling'. 

"I'm not the only archangel in the room right now. Gabriel's alive. Gabriel," Lucifer coaxed Gabriel close.

Handing the camera to Chuck, the angel joined his brother on the screen, giving a wave. "Hey there, you beached air whales. Hope you're hearing this loud and clear."

Lucifer eyed Gabriel, confused but composed.

"The End of the World doesn't have to be so destructive, you know," Gabriel pointed out. "It can amount to one meeting, to a simple fulfillment of the prophecy of the Winchester Gospel. Humans aren't so bad. I've lived among them, learned from them, the way some of you have been doing. I'm with Lucifer on this."

"We're allies," Lucifer confirmed. "I share my vessel. All of us can bring Paradise on with as few casualties as possible.".

"I know, you don't have a whole lot of reason to trust us," Gabriel allowed. "And you're not used to thinking for yourself."

"Not since a long, long time ago, when our father was still making regular appearances. But, if I recall, that's why they call it faith."

***

"Between Cas's friends, the archangels, and Naomi, we should have hit every TV and radio."

"What now?" Sam asked with a swallow.

"Now we wait," Gabriel said, grinning. "And maybe play a game."

Sam hung back, watching. Dean had already proven necessary for complete enjoyment of the game room. 

"You used to play poker, if I recall." Sam glanced over to see Crowley attempting to get Adam to hold his cards the right way.

"Hey!" Meg said. "Put that away!" Sam glanced over to see her looming over Risa and Faith. Her campmates were in the middle of carefully extricating Twister from the stacks on the lower shelves, but they stopped and released the box, gazing up at her. 

"No one touches that," she said. She glared at the flap of wings, turning toward Raphael. "You too. No humans, no demons, and especially no angels."

"Kevin Tran has been found," said Raphael.

"Alive?" Sam asked warily.

"For now. He told Metatron his story, and offered to assist him. But now he's holed up in Metatron's office and going nowhere anytime soon. Your Roadhouse friends are with him."

Sam frowned. "Do you think it's worth the risk?"

"You've turned that scared little prophet into quite the soldier, Winchester. It's a good move, tactically, especially with Metatron struggling to stay in Michael's favor. He simply can't trust him to obey, to make good choices, or to keep Heaven safe, to keep any of us safe. Closing the gates should be the last thing he ever does."

"It's way past time to kill him," Lucifer agreed. "He showed no mercy to Naomi."

"And we'll show none to him," said Raphael, warning his brother, "Don't change into your other suit. It needs rest."

"Time to sleep, Sam," said Lucifer.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Sam Winchester."

Sam let himself fall back into a warm, angel-induced sleep. It was a little odd Raphael would offer condolences about Cas, Sam thought, but then, what did he know about Raphael?

***

The sun was starting to set, and Crowley sighed.

"This wasn't in my plans for today, Adam. The closed gates. Lucifer begging for scraps. Castiel gone with little chance of bouncing back. This was supposed to be a _good_ day. Thought I might even get laid."

Crowley took a moment to appreciate Adam's intensity. He was stretched half across the picnic table, sometimes glancing up at Risk for a moment before looking down and scratching his pen shakily over the stack of paper again. 

"You know why it was supposed to be a good day?" Crowley waited to see if Adam would glance up, but all Adam wanted to do was draw the dog. "It's my birthday today. Not that I should care. I've certainly had a lot of them."

Adam made a noise as the dog hid behind a tree, sniffing. 

"I'm with Sam now, as you know, and that raises my general standards for enjoyment. Week ago, if you'd have asked my plans, I'd have said I was thinking of setting up an Amelia reunion, so he'd finally understand. Now, though," he shrugged ruefully, "the time for games has passed, hasn't it?"

Crowley leaned forward and pulled the drawing away from Adam, ignoring the man's grunt of protest.

He ran his eyes over the blue marks. "You've got the general shape. Just needs a little tweaking."

Adam glared. Very carefully, he said, "No." He expectantly waited until Crowley gave him his drawing back. When he received it, he gripped it tight in his hands, crinkling the edges.

"Did you used to draw, before?"

Adam gave a slight nod, suspiciously eyeing Crowley as he clutched.

"We should get you some proper supplies," Crowley said thoughtfully.

***

"Where's Lucifer?" For a teenager, the kid certainly seemed to have an attitude. What was it with all the junior detectives on the Satan trail?

"Who are you, and what's it to you?" challenged Crowley. The kid was no demon, as far as Crowley could tell. Maybe he was an angel, or just a particularly stupid human. Best not to underestimate him.

"I owe him," the kid shot back.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. Another teenage Satanic rebel. He nodded to the wooden bench of the picnic table. "Pull up a seat."

"What are you drawing?" their guest aimed the question at Adam as he settled onto the bench.

"The dog," Adam said clearly. He jerked slightly at the sound of his own voice. He looked down at the hand holding his pen, his grip steady. He cautiously tried a few lines. They were easy. Fluid. Beautiful.

Their guest's attention had already turned from Adam to the dog. "Can she do any tricks?" he asked. 

Hearing a frustrated grunt, Crowley looked over at Adam, who was struggling with the pen again. He watched for a moment as the lines grew uglier and Adam grew tenser and wound up tighter. 

"He used to be a vessel, didn't he?" the teen asked with an amusement Crowley wasn't sure he hated. "He shows the symptoms. I can make your dog do a trick, if you want."

"Think I'll pass," Crowley said nervously, licking his lips. "Who are you again? No witch is this powerful. You're an angel, aren't you? Or some sort of god."

The teen smiled. "That's flattering," he said. "I'm like you, in a way, but more powerful."

"Meaning what?" 

"For one, we were both created by Lucifer." He offered his hand. "My name is Jesse. A part of both of us is human, and that's rare."

Crowley recognized the name, he thought. "As I see it, only one of us has the power to make an angel mess in his pants." He took the hand with a pleased expression. "The name's Crowley. Ex-king of Hell. I helped Lucifer get sent underground. And this is Michael's old meat suit. We could use your help just about now, Mr. Antichrist."

Jesse watched Risk explore the dirt under a nearby tree. "I don't go around making angels crap their pants."

"Even if you get to go see Heaven?"

"Where do you think I go when I don't want to be found?" Jesse said, tone dull.

"Kid," blinked Crowley. "You've lived quite the life."

Waiting for a meeting with his creator, contemplating possible tricks to teach Risk without rising from his seat, Jesse didn't exactly disagree.


	27. Should Have Had a Long Spoon ("doing something hot")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains sexual situations.

"Swear to God, never seen anything so beautiful," Rufus said. "Bobby almost cried."

Sam smirked, nodding in confirmation. He only wished Dean could have seen.

"We made our way to the garden, and the kid did the rest." Ellen shook her head. "Pulling a million souls at a time out, just planting 'em there in the dirt, where they grew these...flowers."

"As big as your head," Ash said. "Huge-ass flowers. All glowing, pinks and greens, yellows, real subtle, but real pretty."

"And he'd go help them knock down walls," Jo grinned. "The garden shook, like you wouldn't believe. Thought the columns would collapse, or the trees would uproot, but there was no damage. We felt...at peace, actually."

"Ah ah ah," Crowley said, pushing his own glass away from Adam's reaching hand, and Adam gave an annoyed sound. "Get your own. Jo?"

Jo poured some beer for Adam with a warm smile. Adam carefully curled his hand around his beer, giving her a little nod. He watched Jo as she stepped out from behind the bar in order to sit at one of the tables with Ellen.

"So, what's it all mean?" Crowley asked. "And if there are no walls, how come there are walls?" He gestured to the bar as a whole.

"We have our own Heavens," Sam said, "like we did before. But we can interact with people again. And heading to angel Heaven is going to be as easy as heading anywhere else once Jesse and Lucifer finish."

There was a knock at the door. "Suppose that's them," Crowley said lightly.

Ellen went to answer the knock, only to step back in surprise. 

"Ellen," called a familiar voice. "Running The Roadhouse, of course. In Heaven. Not nearly as exciting, is it?"

"As I live and breathe," she declared as she recovered. "You look well."

Sam turned swiftly on his stool, dread and excitement warring in him. He so knew that voice.

"Sammy," John said, and Sam looked up.

"Sir." Sam stood, mouth giving a slight twitch. He stood, then waited, not wanting to appear confrontational, not wanting to scare John away.

"Look at you." That hard gaze softened, the gruff voice warming. "Your hair's so damn long. You dead?" 

"No. I'm...fine." Actually, he was finding his father's presence pretty confounding. "I was helping fix Heaven. Do you...want a drink?" 

"Have a seat, John. I'll get you one." 

John glanced over at Sam. "I had Bobby catch me up," he said, stepping closer. "I guess some shit went down, and that Devil's Gate was just the beginning."

"Yes, sir," Sam said.

"I'm guessing there's some sort of explanation as to why you called up Lucifer and let him...possess you."

Sam sat back down slowly to stare up at John, who looked about ten feet tall and impenetrable as the Cage.

"Adam?" John suddenly asked, confused, and Sam breathed again.

"Yeah. He was...possessed too...by Michael, Lucifer's brother. And we just got Michael out of him. Like, a couple days ago."

Adam waved at John. John looked between Sam and Adam with a mixture of sorrow and contempt. "Well, why was Michael in him?"

"I love you, Dad." John's eyes fixed on Sam and narrowed. "I do," Sam said openly. "I'm proud of what you did for me, all the time you spent trying to protect me, and everyone around me. I want you to know I said yes to Lucifer to save the world."

John paused. "Okay, son." He waited for the point of Sam's announcement.

"Just," Sam finally said, "I wanted to tell you that, ever since...and now, you're here, and I want to be clear. There's nothing wrong with me that I can't handle, Dad."

"Dean told you."

"Yeah. Before you got out of Hell, even. Dad, there were other kids like me. Hell, I was supposed to fight four of them."

"Okay. So you're not the only...freak in town. But you and Dean, the two of you are killing angels, Sam." His voice's softness was gone.

"Well, actually, I'm not sure where Dean is." At John's look, he added, "But I'll find him. We're only hunting certain angels, the angels working for Michael or Metatron. They're not all righteous."

"Sam."

Sam bristled. "I know what you think of me, that you never thought I was...," Sam made a pained face, looking away, taking in a shaky breath. "But, you're wrong." His gaze returned. "I helped restore Heaven today. You're out, for the very first time, and it's _me_ that you have to thank. Heck, not too long ago? I almost closed the gates of Hell forever." 

"Almost?"

"Don't," Sam swallowed. "Dad. Just...don't." His eyes begged even more aptly than his voice did.

John paused, assessing, but ultimately decided to bring up a few more points of contention. "Bobby told me you smuggled some demons into Heaven. Does that sound a good deed to you, Sam?"

"Wasn't his idea," Crowley piped up from the other side of Adam.

"So, what, then?" John said softly, distantly, eyeing Sam. "You let demons push you around now?"

"He's our boss, actually. He does all the pushing." Sam glared at Crowley in warning, but the demon ignored the look.

John's face twitched. "Survival, that's one thing, and I could almost understand. Enemy of my enemy. But you're _drinking_ with them in Heaven."

Crowley raised his glass. "Crowley. Nice to meet you, Papa Winchester."

John raised a brow, staring Crowley down.

Sam sighed. "Crowley," he shook his head. He didn't need Crowley's help.

"No. Just, let me say this," Crowley insisted, and when Sam sighed, Crowley went ahead. "Your son's connection with Hell comes from the simple fact he was fed demon blood in his crib when he was 6 months old. His mother's death happened when she got in Azazel's way—well, I suppose you call him Yellow Eyes."

John looked at Sam with surprise. "What?"

"Uh. Mom made...a deal," admitted Sam. "In...order to save your life. All he told her was the price was permission to come into our house and do something. She was really alone, Dad. He'd just killed her parents."

"That son of a bitch!" said John so loudly Ellen slapped the drink she'd promised into his hand, and he took a swig. "Going around, making deals with civilians? She didn't know what she was up against. That son of a bitch."

"Well, that's not exactly true," Sam said softly.

"Meaning?"

Sam nodded to the empty stool next to him. "I think you should sit down, Dad."

"Don't you say anything about your mother you'll regret."

"She was a hunter."

"A hunter?!"

"A hunter."

"She wasn't a," John started, but then his face went blank and he drank more. "Why the hell would she make a deal, if she knew about demons?"

"For you," Sam said. "Because you're important to her."

"I need to go find her," John said, shaking his head, turning away from Sam. "She'll clear all this up for me."

"Have you seen her? Here, I mean?"

"No." He glanced at Sam. "Just Bobby, a few old buddies from the service, my piano teacher."

"You play the piano?"

John shrugged. "You know, maybe I'll hold off."

"No. You don't have to do that."

"Hunter's background, Dad," Sam tried. "I mean, she knew what she was doing, and made a shady deal with a demon to be with _you_." Just like Dean had done for him. Just like John had done for Dean.

"She won't understand."

"Won't understand what?"

John drained his glass, clinking it on the counter. "The things I did. The things I made you do."

Sam blinked. He took in the lines of pain and sincerity on his father's face. 

John sighed. "I spent your whole life trying to figure out what you were, and when you were gonna snap. But, turns out I'm the one to blame."

"It was her choice," Sam urged quietly. "Just imagine what would have happened to us if we hadn't had you. You did right by us, Dad. You think you didn't prepare me for what I had to do, but, look at me."

John's eyes did scan Sam for a moment.

"Come with me to find her. Talk to her."

"I'm not the kid she fell for. I never was."

"Doesn't matter. Love is...effort, and commitment. It's about adapting. You can try again." John's gaze started to harden like Dean's sometimes did. "Dad, you _owe_ it to yourself to try. You deserve it."

John shook his head intently. "No, Sam. I don't."

"You do! You weren't perfect. So what? Do you think I was perfect? No, you don't. And, hell, Mom? She hid half her life from you, like I tried to with Jess. She wanted to protect you, and wanted to leave all that behind. But that's impossible."

John's motioned for Ellen to pour him some more, and she did.

"And you," John nodded to Sam. "You partnered up with the Devil."

"Oh, I did so much more than that," Sam assured. 

***

After asking John if he was sure he wanted to stay with Adam and Kate for a little while instead of finding Mary, Sam pat Adam on the shoulder and watched them leave together. John had known Adam for longer, but Sam still felt like he was sending his little brother into a strange situation he wished he could protect him from.

Sam at least knew Crowley had to feel similarly about leaving Adam with John. "We should celebrate the whole Heaven thing, Sam," Crowley said. "Just the two of us."

"You mean like that vacation?" Sam asked. He took a moment to check his phone for messages. There was a missed call from Jesse when they'd exchanged numbers, but that was it. Nothing from Dean.

"That's exactly what I mean, Moose," Crowley purred.

Sam looked up from the screen. "You're gonna sweep me off my feet, huh? Is that it?"

"Oh, darling, you're already swept, swept like an angel's crime scene. I'm too much for you. Always have been." He eyed Sam up and down. "Don't know how you stand it."

Honestly, neither did Sam. He was the luckiest he'd been in love for a very long time. And the shoe hadn't dropped yet. 

"Guys," Jo said, and Sam grinned dumbly as he pushed his phone into his pocket.

"Sorry, Jo," he said.

***

"Okay, you want to travel through time _why_ , exactly?"

"In celebration of Heaven's facelift, and because we're Adam-free." Crowley pushed past Lucifer to reach for Sam's cellphone changer. "Have you ever seen _Doctor Who_ , by any chance?"

"Why does that matter?" Lucifer's eyes narrowed.

"A cellphone, working across space and time. Wonder if you could pull that off."

"I have absolutely no idea," Lucifer said honestly. "But, I'd be willing to try it." He watched Sam shove clothes into his bag and wondered if he shouldn't pack something too, just to get the full experience of travelling. "Where are we going, exactly?"

"Did you just say 'we'?" Crowley raised a brow. 

"You need a chaperon, and I'm the best," the archangel declared. 

"What am I, 100? No thanks."

"Time travel's imperfect, and, for my vessel and my highest-ranking demon, ill-advised. I need to keep you safe. You can't pull this off without my supervision."

"Just come pick us up when I pray. We'll lie low, fit in," Sam tried to reassure. "Hell, we may not even be out much," he teased Crowley.

"Sam," Lucifer said carefully. "You've been confined to this timeline, this planet, this continent. Crowley's only been to a few exotic locations with Naomi. I've seen practically nothing of Earth since the hour I fell. I've never been on vacation. I've never had a friend like you to go with."

Sam's gaze softened enough that Crowley could actually envision his romantic notions falling gracefully to their death.

***

"Oh god, yeah. That was true. They'd just, fft," Bobby mimed tying the tie of a bib behind his neck, "then, they'd just...go for it."

"Was that worse than when that one tormented you in your basement?" Martin asked.

"Actually? Yeah. I think it was. On pure shock value and psychological horror alone."

At the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, Bobby and Martin straightened up and aimed their weapons.

"Dean!" Bobby exclaimed, lowering his angelic gun after a scrutinizing moment. "Didn't expect you back so soon! _Don't_ tell me you're dead. I was just telling Martin here about our last case."

Dean smirked. "No. Not dead." He nodded to Martin, who was standing on the other side of the doorway to Metatron's office. "Hey."

"Hey," Martin said, frowning slightly. "Dean, I'm sorry about your friend." He lowered his gaze. "Really."

"As vampires go, he was one of the best I'd met," Bobby agreed. "Not that that's saying much."

Dean nodded. "Thanks, Bobby. Martin." He walked to the doorway of the office, eyeing the room and the piles of paper within it before glancing at the prophet who had taken it over. 

"Did you see your brother fixed Heaven?" Bobby said.

"Fixed? You mean when he knocked all the walls down? I'm sure that really helped the cause," snorted Dean.

"It let me talk to your dad," Bobby pointed out, watching for Dean's reaction carefully. "Here to see Kevin?" he asked when he didn't get one.

Kevin looked over to where Dean was standing in the open doorway. "Something wrong, Dean?"

"Just...looking," Dean said, weighted gaze caught in the gold and white, in the renewed openness of Heaven's layout. "Wouldn't say no to an update, though," he reminded. "People wanna know."

"Spells, pretty much," Kevin said. "Lots and lots of spells. And plans to, like, make Heaven all about people's life stories."

Dean frowned and held his hand out. "Lemme see."

"You can come in, you know," Kevin said with a raised brow. "I would have imagined you making an ass of yourself, not standing out in the hall," he pointed out. 

Dean shrugged. "I'm good. Let's just say the idea of all...that," Dean gestured to the room itself, to the clutter of Kevin's notes interspersed with Metatron's, the spooky angelic instruments, "makes me cringe."

Kevin tried to stare Dean down in hopes he wouldn't have to get up just because Dean didn't feel like coming in, but he lost the battle and sighed. Standing, he stacked a few pages of his notes together after locating them amidst the paper chaos. "Sam's worried about you, you know. Even Crowley is," Kevin commented. "But, at least Adam's safe."

"Yeah. Small miracles," Dean said with a hint of annoyance in the tone. Kevin took pause at that.

"Why don't you come in, Dean?"

"Nope. I'm good."

Kevin walked to the doorway, reached out with the pages slightly, then paused when they were still out of Dean's reach. "Seriously. What's up?" 

"I'm...afraid of Metatron," Dean admitted with a sweet, hard-to-fault expression. He shrugged. "All these spells, these crazy, book-related plans. What if I get trapped in there? I'm...used to being trapped in angel rooms, offered up to Michael, or whoever. And he's looking for a vessel right now. Did you forget? I didn't."

Kevin sighed, closing the distance between the pages and Dean's hand, stepping out and leaning against the pretty white wall outside the office as Dean read the notes.

"Scared of Michael?" Bobby asked with part concern, part suspicion. "Since when?"

"Heh heh. Well, you know."

It didn't look like Bobby knew.

"Hey, Kevin? I need more notes," Dean said after a moment.

"No."

"Kev."

"He's faking, isn't he?" Kevin asked the hunters on either side of the doorway, who, ultimately, shrugged in response. "Let me put this a way you'd understand, Dean," Kevin said. "Fuck off. Come on in if you need more. I've checked the warding myself. But, I've got a headache, so I'm gonna sit down." 

"That's not gonna work for me, Kevin." Dean reached for Bobby with a surprising strength, yanking the gun out of his grasp to aim it at him. 

Bobby stared, eyes wide. "Have you lost your mind?"

"You like hallucinating, Martin?" Dean asked, voice cool. Kevin, Bobby, Martin, all searched for the joke.

Martin swallowed. "What?"

"You like hallucinating? If you don't, I'm gonna need your weapon."

Dean stood, aiming the weapons. "Alright. Kevin, I'm gonna need everything you got."

***

"You know, I never understood boats," Lucifer commented, stroking the curve of the gondola. 

His sudden appearance made Sam and Crowley jump.

"You never understand _anything_ ," Crowley complained.

"Let me get this straight: I'm supposed to make sure no one kills you two for getting all romantic throughout history, but you're not going to let me ride in the boat?"

"This was a really terrible idea, Sam," Crowley said, coaxing Sam to rest against him again in the cool air and the twilight. "Don't blame you for your kind heart, though," he added, and shot Lucifer a dirty look. "Yes, Lucifer. That is exactly what you are supposed to do."

"I saw this painting about ancient Greece over there," Lucifer gestured vaguely. "What do you think about Sam in a toga?" He grinned, predatory.

"I'll think what I like about Sam in a toga, but you, on the other hand, will cease doing so. Out."

Lucifer reached forward, placing a hand gently on Sam's chest. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

" _Gross_ ," Sam said, pushing the archangel's hand off of him. "You brought us here knowing we wanted to be alone. We'll do something with you before the trip is over, I _promise_. But you need to behave." He gave Lucifer a stern look.

***

"So when I leave you guys here, in the room I booked for you, you're going to—"

"Yep," Sam said simply. He guided Lucifer toward the door with an arm across his shoulders. "The city's all yours in the meantime. Go learn how to paint, or talk to some people about their life story. You could even go to ancient Greece and find some men in togas," he teased. "You're an angel; you have free reign."

Lucifer's face expressed longing for the incredibly decadent-looking furniture as the wooden door was shut in his face.

"I don't want men in togas!" he complained. But there was no one to listen to him anymore.

***

"I've seen a lot of masterful paintings today. But you're the finest piece of art in creation, Sam," the too-interested voice came, uninvited and unallowed.

Sam stared, blissed-out and confused for a split second before chilled, then furious. "Get out. Right now," he said, still short of breath and sloppy and too vulnerable to be anywhere near the archangel.

"You said I had free reign," Lucifer reminded. He  walked over to the gold-framed mirror, studying his reflection in it up close, touching the carvings with curious fingertips. "I merely took advantage of your oversight."

"Oversight, my ass! You _don't_ watch me have sex. This should be pretty clear by now," Sam said, letting Crowley help him cover up quickly with the duvet, fingers curled into its plushness, half-formed into fists.

Lucifer turned around, in profile, watching with one eye. "You say you want me to care about humans. Well, I'm here, aren't I? I'm enjoying their creations. For you. To make you proud."

His fingers tightened just a little more, stretching the fabric slightly, his nails digging in. "And you think you get a free show for doing that?" 

"Well, it wouldn't hurt. It's all work when it comes to you and me now." Lucifer frowned, puzzled. "I miss you."

"Yeah, apparently!" 

"I miss our connection," he continued softly.

Crowley perched on the edge of the bed, not bothering to cover up, watching, calculating. "On August 1st, you'll have it. Unlike _some_ angels, we hold to our promises."

Lucifer ran his eyes up and down Crowley in assessment. "Hey, Crowley. I'm still the boss of you, right?"

"Lucifer," Sam protested.

"What?"

"People don't _insert_ themselves into other people's sex lives. Especially not people with bad track records."

"Crowley did it." Sam shifted uncomfortably. Satisfied with the reaction, Lucifer turned around again, looking at the drawn curtain thoughtfully.

"No, actually," Crowley finally said. "I didn't."

"Right," Lucifer snorted, leaning close and icing up the single pane glass. "It's different when it's you, because you're a simple little demon with a simple demon brain. It's different because you're young," he drew a curve with his fingertip, and extended it down, "because he doesn't know you like he knows me, all your past violence and destruction." He drew the same shape going the opposite way, then a line, completing the Cupid's bow. "Crowley was trying to manipulate you with sex when you were at a low point. At least I'm here because I really can't stand him panting and drooling all over you like you're a sacrificial offering." 

Sam released his grip on the duvet begrudgingly. "Where is this coming from? You said he was good for me."

"We have no time left together, Sam!" Lucifer shouted, whirling around. "We have nothing left, and in the meantime, you've completely accepted that he tricked you for an entire year, playing with your heart, your mind, your...'sex life'. He _coveted_ your body, Sam, and he took it from me. And then he took it from the demon he _hired_ to distract you." Lucifer stepped closer, looming over Crowley. "Your body was _made_ for me, Sam, yet you tell me I can't watch you in motion, that only this _demon_ can."

Sam closed his eyes as if in pain.

"His body's his own!" Crowley spat.

"But his mind and heart are free game?"

Crowley hesitated. 

"No witty response, huh? At least I had the gall to manipulate Sam myself, instead of sending a lesser demon in to do the job."

" _I'm_ Amelia, you idiot!" Crowley stood, still bare, looking tall and expansive. "I'm Amelia, and I didn't exactly _expect_ to fall for him. I didn't _expect_ to have sex with him. I was supposed to play the part, and, I failed. Or, no, maybe I did far too good a job."

Crowley paused, turned to Sam, the illusion of his vastness failing. Sam crawled away from Crowley, running a furious hand through his sex hair and settling at the edge of the bed. "Wow," he breathed. "I've brought her up _how_ many times?"

"Sam," Crowley murmured, turning away slightly, not quite brave enough to see Sam's face anymore. "I'd thought...hoped...it was no longer relevant."

" _This_ is why you know just how to make me feel better, huh?" Sam scrubbed fingers through his hair, adding static instead of order to its chaos. "Why you always know what to say. Social experimentation. Data-gathering. Practice. All sounds pretty relevant to me. Anything you wanna add?"

"You were open to my flirting," Crowley said, voice incredibly soft. "You didn't mind the cuddles. As _me_. Does the fact we'd sort of been together before that really matter?"

"Does it matter? How do I know what to believe with you?" Sam asked, eyes wide with the search for some sort of hope to cling to. "Seriously, Crowley. How am I supposed to have any...control?"

Crowley swallowed.

"This is the truth of who he is, Sam," called Lucifer. "He won't change. He's just another demon stringing you along."

"Fuck off!" Sam threw the brass candle holder on the nightstand at Lucifer, flinching at the sound when it made chinking contact with his face. "Seriously! Fuck off! In the next five minutes, I better be back in the future, with both of you gone, and I better be with Dean. Find him."

"Oh, I'm not taking you to Dean. It's not the right time. Trust me."

Sam glanced up at Crowley in confusion. Crowley looked just as lost. They both eyed Lucifer again. 

Sam said coolly. "I'll do the End of the World thing with you, like I promised. But, you just remember: I beat you before, and I'll do it again. And I won't hold anything back."

No one in the room doubted the power of the threat. 

Not even Sam himself.

***

"I said get out of my sight!" Sam yelled.

"Whoa there!" Meg looked between Sam and Lucifer, then over at Crowley, who sighed and shrugged helplessly. "What's up?"

" _Lucifer_ thinks he has the right to every part of me. Still. After all this time. He's enough of a selfish, controlling _freak_ that he won't even let me _have sex_ in private anymore. He won't bring me to Dean, either, even though apparently he can."

"It's not the right time."

"Yeah," Sam snarked, "you said that. I remember."

"Lucifer?" Meg said, gesturing to the cabin. "Let's talk."

Lucifer followed her, a little annoyed, but there seemed to be a good chance he'd listen to what she had to say.

"Sam?" asked Crowley.

Sam shook his head in apology. "Don't try to soothe me. Don't explain anything. You don't have to, for one, and I don't want to hear it. I'm gonna go find Dean, but I'll be back as soon as I can. If you really need me, call." He waited for a moment to see if there would be any protest. 

Crowley looked at Sam sadly, but he said nothing, merely watched Sam throw his bag into the backseat of one of the sigil-covered cars and pull out. If asked, he'd have said he was feeling as sat-on and empty as the passenger seat he should have been sitting in.


	28. Making Peace ("doing something sweet")

There stood a small bridge Sam had passed by about ten times since changing camps that had never really made him think of anything in particular before, but it picked a hell of a time to start. Sam slowed the car, sighing. He glanced over at the empty seat next to him, beaten-up, stained with blood. 

"Okay," he told the universe. And pulled out his phone.

"Oh, did I order a moose call? Must be spending too much time with hunters." Crowley's voice was high and cool, but not unaffected.

"I haven't even left town," Sam admitted. 

"Second thoughts, perchance? From you, perfect old Moose? Say it's not so."

Sam rolled his eyes. Crowley could be as smug as he wanted. It was true. He wasn't perfect. "I'm by that bridge at the edge of camp. The little one. Wanna join me?" There was a pause. Sam reached over and opened the passenger side door, wondering if Crowley'd come, somehow pretty sure he would.

***

"You are such a baby," Meg complained. "You wanna know what he sees in Crowley? Well, me too. So why don't you ask him to show you with his mind, like when you asked me?"

Lucifer pushed his mug over to Meg. "Hadn't thought about it."

"Imagine that."

"What if I don't like what I see?"

"It'd still be better than not knowing," she pointed out, shaking a few extra marshmallows into the chipped mug. "You might wanna tell Sam about Dean first, though. He'll find out, somehow." 

Lucifer slowly reached for the plastic bag, pulling it carefully from her grasp and over to his side of the table. "My idea is better."

"Right, we kill Crowley and wait til Sam forgets about him," she smirked. "You have a week left with him. You're not gonna rock the boat any more than you have to with him."

"I  _could_  outlive the big fight, you know," Lucifer said, but at her doubtful expression, he sighed heavily. "Why is it I choose to keep only the most insolent demons around?"

"Loyalty, mostly. That, and Sam has really bad taste."

"Oh yeah," he said with a quirk of his lip. "That was it."

***

Sam waited a few moments for the soft whoosh of air that came from Crowley displacing space as he appeared.

"The bridge at the edge of camp," Crowley said, feeling the stillness of the car as a cool breeze flowed in through the rolled-down windows. "Am I supposed to be suddenly impressed with it? Cause it looks the same as ever."

"I know they don't look alike," admitted Sam, "but, seeing it just now, I thought about Make-Out Bridge, and about how sweet you looked in my button-down." 

Crowley looked at him skeptically. "Sweet?"

"Super adorable. Like...angelic levels," Sam teased.

"Oh, I see what this is," teased Crowley. "You saw a bridge and knew you didn't have anyone to kiss atop it."

Sam reached out for Crowley's hand, twining their fingers. "No," he said honestly, giving the hand a squeeze. "Truth is, it wouldn't have been right to leave. Because I'm done running away from you, Crowley."

"Mm-hmm. And is that a promise you're going to keep, or are you gonna keep breaking my heart?"

"I might need some space," Sam agreed. "I can't predict that I won't run. But I'll come back. I'm...strapped in for the ride." He smiled cautiously, hoping what he was offering would be enough.

Crowley stared a little, tilting his head.

"What?" asked Sam. "Is...that...okay?"

"That's fine," he agreed. "But are you _sure_ you wouldn't like to kiss me now?" 

***

"You overstepped Sam's boundaries," Meg said. "That's bad. How are you gonna fix it?"

Lucifer shrugged easily. "The anger  _will_  fade, and he  _will_  come back to me."

"And they say you're not arrogant. We're talking about Sam Winchester. He's not easy to win over."

"You think that's what I'm running on? Arrogance? I'm your creator, Meg." His brow furrowed. "Too much is riding on me taking down Michael. Good soldiers have died for the cause, to support me, as their king." 

"Azazel," she said, thinking of schemes shining in uniquely yellow eyes, remembering the dedication he'd had and the fact he'd died at Dean's hands.

"Don't worry about Sam, Meg. He's not going to do anything to me."

"Not even whatever he did to Michael?" 

"That old spell? Especially not that," Lucifer said with a glint in his eye that she recognized as the sign of someone who was very close to victory. "As for mending fences," he added, voice softening, "I do have an idea."

***

Heavenly light glinted off the reddish polished stone of the still pool of water. Kevin's scrawled notes were strewn across the ledge of the pool, across the pristine sand-colored clay of the ground, across the silken, white lounge and its pillows.

Despite the presence of comfortable furniture, the archangel opted to lie on his side along the pool's ledge, reaching down toward the water.

"What do you think, Dean?" Making contact with the surface of the pool, Michael rippled the water slightly with borrowed fingertips, disturbing his new reflection, shifting and transforming it into a moving distortion. "I could kill him quietly. Or I could make a show of it."

"Honestly? I could give a rat's ass."

Michael rolled his eyes, Dean's eyes. 

"You killed Cas, remember? So get your advice from a different chump." Dean gazed into his own reflection, looking into his eyes, then past them to the angel inside. "You took him out, no hesitation. I gotta think Metatron's been a hell of a lot more trouble than that."

"I never really expected anything from Metatron, though," Michael pointed out. "He's always been...," he made a vague gesture, not quite knowing how to put it.

"A kook."

Michael paused, but seemed to accept the description. "There was a reason I sent Castiel to retrieve you from Hell. He used to be a team player."

Dean tried to ignore the familiarity of the sentiment, the _emotion_ that Michael was expressing, but he failed. "You know, I get being let down by Cas," he pointed out. "I mean, _no one_  knows that better than me. But you spread him out across the woods like so much cream cheese, and for what? Because nothing matters to you anymore. Nothing's sacred. Welcome to the effects of Hell."

"Nothing _is_ sacred. You trapped me down there, the two of you. That was never the plan."

"You were gonna roast half the planet. Cry me the River Styx, pal. Few hundred years in the pit should be a cakewalk."

"Try _millenia_ ," said Michael with the cool intensity of a rime frost. "In that Cage, with no escape? I lost more than I knew I had. All because a couple arrogant children wouldn't play their roles."

"I stopped the apocalypse," said Dean. "Whatever happens to me, I know I did that much."

The silence from the archangel made Dean uneasy, though from what he could sense of the archangel's energy at the place where they met, he seemed more thoughtful than anything. 

"What does Paradise mean to you, Dean?"

Dean paused. "Wait. Is that a come-on?"

***

"So," Crowley said, wrapped tightly in Sam's arms as they stood on a rickety bridge above a dried-up creek. "We got a plan?"

Sam gently kissed his temple. "I got a couple ideas. Then, if all else fails, I'm gonna pull a Dean and hit my final stops. Maybe he'll find me along the way."

"Maybe," Crowley agreed. He felt so warm, so positive and  _good_. "Sam? I think I should say...something."

"Do we still have that place in Kermit?" Sam asked abruptly.

The demon stilled in Sam's arms. "What? Oh. Yes. Those documents were legitimate." He nuzzled against Sam's shoulder a bit shyly.

"I survive this, the two of us go check it out again, okay?"

"If we both survive," Crowley agreed. 

Sam turned him slightly, leaned so they could kiss again, briefly. "And I love you too," he agreed. 

"Would you have asked me to marry you?" Crowley asked. Sam blinked in surprise, pulled back slightly to stare down at him. They faced off like that, quietly, surrounded by the warmth of the sun and a breeze that offered a strangely otherworldly type of comfort.

Sam took a moment to register that he was getting a call. A call from Lucifer, of all people. Frowning, arm still around his favorite demon, he reached into his pocket. "So. Done enough damage for one day, huh?"

"I'm not calling to cause damage, Sam."

"Right," Sam rolled his eyes.

"Call it destruction if you want. I'll call it a peace offering," the archangel said cryptically, and hung up.

"Did you—?" Sam asked, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"Yeah, I heard that," Crowley finished. "He wasn't, by any chance, bluffing? Alright. Yeah. Thought not." He blew out a breath.

***

"I'm sorry, Sam," Missouri said, her hand covering Sam's gently. "There's nothing more I can do."

"Thanks anyway," Sam said with a swallow. At least they hadn't driven far. He felt like time was wasting away. Who knew where Dean could have gone.

"If I know you, you'll find him. So, don't give up," she said as she let Sam's hand go and he sighed, running it over his face, composing himself.

"Thanks," he said again. 

Crowley, from within the confines of the Devil's trap on the porch, said, "Great. Now, would you mind letting me out?"

***

"Nothing," Jesse said through the phone. "I can't sense people, I can't astral project. I definitely can't do what a psychic can't."

"Has this ever happened to you before, where your powers stopped working for a while?" Sam asked.

"When Lucifer was in the Cage. Those years, they were gone, totally. Then, he came up, and they came back too."

"You think maybe he can shut them down, like, at will?" Sam asked carefully. "You think maybe he  _did_?"

"He's the only angel who  _could_ ," Crowley pointed out, "if the powers are demonic." 

"Keep in touch, Jesse," Sam said. "If you need anything—money, transportation, whatever, you let me know. I'm not in contact with Lucifer right now, but I'll do what I can."

All the resources that had come to mind exhausted, they set out to try and find Dean on their own. 

***

"You sure, pal? No sexual implication in there at all?"

"I am not a deviant like Lucifer," said Michael, annoyed. "Or Anna."

"Nice," Dean grumbled, remembering the way Michael'd burned her to a crisp. "You wanna know what Paradise is to me? I can tell you one thing: This ain't it."

"Exactly," Micheal agreed. He touched the surface of the water in the reflecting pool, dragging his fingertips across it as if finger painting. Dean realized, startled, that it  _was_  like finger painting. The angel was making colors, blurred shapes and lines start to appear, and they spread out. They came into focus.

"Take a look at this, Dean," Michael said.

And the pool revealed shimmering images of people and their actions. Of people and...sins. 


	29. Star Tours ("doing something ridiculous")

"You're complaining about free merchandise?" 

"Free because sometimes I get possessed by Satan? Yeah." Sam tugged a little awkwardly at the Graceland shirt Crowley'd insisted he put on. He took another lick of the ice-cream cone the fearful museum employee had shoved into his hand. "And all these angels are looking at me. This pendant's going crazy."

"It's our last week. Ignore 'em. After all," he said, eyeing a strange display that brought him back to his vacations with Naomi, "you always wanted to go here, right?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed, looking around, feeling wrapped in nostalgic longing. "With...someone," he added. Crowley didn't press, didn't even seem to care who it was. He just shook his head as he stepped closer, as if the display had gotten something wrong.

"Dean always laughed at me if I suggested any place like this," Sam said. He couldn't help but worry about Dean, a constant nagging he was somehow used to, between the times Dean had died and the beginning of the angel and demon fighting. He wished Dean was with them; he would have liked some of their earlier stops. He could be annoying, but somehow his occasional mockery was comforting. When he'd been busy working for Lucifer, he hadn't missed it, really, but maybe that had been because Lucifer had made fun of him with a similar enthusiasm. Or maybe things there had just been too dark to equate with Dean's jerk-like behavior.

"That was what Cas said his biggest problem was, right? No faith."

Faith. Right. "Not that that helped Cas," Sam pointed out bitterly.

Crowley sighed, took Sam's hand, the one without the ice-cream melting in its wrapper as Sam periodically licked it. He guided him to other displays, pausing here and there.

"Some of them are looking at me," Sam whispered again. He might as well have been on display, too.

"Well, look at them back," Crowley muttered. He glanced around. "Mind your business," he told an angel with cold eyes and three eyebrow piercings.

Sam snorted, letting go of Crowley's hand, but patting it gratefully. Everything was too close. Crowley was too close.

"Ah, where life began," Crowley announced dramatically as they neared the Garden of Eden display. "You know, Cas had some...interesting ideas about that. Did he ever tell you?"

Sam started to shake his head when a poster on the wall caught his notice. "Wait. Look," he said, tilting his head. "An _angel_ got banned from the Creation Museum?"

"Really?!" Crowley asked, coming up close behind Sam. "Oh! Makes sense, actually."

"Gadreel," Sam read.

"See? Makes sense."

"Isn't that...just another name for Lucifer?" Sam asked cautiously.

"Common misconception. _Scapegoat_ for Lucifer, hated, even by Cas. And that is one _delicious_ vessel, if I do say," Crowley eyed the ornately painted portrait of Gadreel's vessel on the wall. "Angels. So dramatic," he added. "Is all this necessary?"

"Is that...gold leaf?" Sam muttered, gesturing to the large, perfect sigil on the wall. "Must be his, too."

"And yet, they're not banning _you_ ," mused Crowley. "They're just paying you in ice-creams."

"Are you Lucifer's vessel?"

Sam turned around, then looked down quite a ways to see a small angel addressing him. "Are you going to spread my molecules out across the universe if I say yes?" he asked. 

"Yes, he's Lucifer's vessel," Crowley said, rolling his eyes at Sam.

"Come with me," the angel said, taking Sam's arm in the too-strong grip of a small hand. "Your demon pet, too."

"If you security guys happen to know the sigil that bans Lucifer, I'd like to see it," Sam said as the angel led him down the escalator and out to the parking lot.

"We would _all_ like to see that," she said.

***

"Speak of the Devil's wingman." Crowley nodded toward the vessel they'd seen in the painting on the wall. "Waiting outside, what, the only building to ever ban him?"

"Weird choice," Sam said in agreement.

"It was not my choice," Gadreel called out across the parking lot of human and angelic visitors. "I suspect that the human I am looking after appreciated the idea of a place I could not enter. Luckily, I have Abner, and Abner is with her."

"Abner? Is that an angel?" Sam asked as they approached him with some caution.

Gadreel nodded once.

"And this girl?"

"I am supposed to guard her. Lucifer sent her, to meet with you. But you should not trust him."

"Right now, I don't," Sam assured.

"I spoke to her in Heaven myself, more than once." She was dead at one point, then? Sam turned a concerned glance toward Crowley, who already looked deep in calculation. "I am not doing this for Lucifer, but for her. You say you do not trust Lucifer, but you intimately trust one of his demons," Gadreel pointed out, narrowing his eyes at Crowley.

"Well, I'm an exception. Lucifer hates me," Crowley said proudly, snapping himself back into the conversation at hand. "And, I'm not just any demon. I'm Sam's boyfriend. Practically his fiance."

Gadreel narrowed his eyes. "Two 'men' cannot wed. Or...," he hesitated, "can they?" His expression shifted, like he really wanted to know.

"Does this look like the earth you first knew? Cause it isn't. I'm a demon, of course, which makes it weird, but, then, no one's made Sam pay for a single thing recently, so I figure they'll let us do it. You got a man in mind? We could double."

Gadreel froze for a moment, then relaxed again. "I have never even been to a wedding," he admitted.

"You'll like it," said Crowley. He offered his hand. "My name is Crowley. I've planned a hundred of the things."

Gadreel looked thoughtful, but announced, "Sam Winchester, you should not consort with demons. Particularly this one. It is a bad idea."

"Who, little old me? I'm downright kindly," Crowley chuckled.

"You are not kindly," Gadreel replied, and Sam frowned. 

"Well, he's done some things," Sam said, hand happening to set itself on the bulge of the angel gun he had with him. "He's...sinned. We've _all_ done some things." This angel didn't seem hostile, he seemed...scared, more than anything. Out of place. Sam would defend Crowley, though, if he had to.

"Did Sarah Blake?" Gadreel said, still eyeing Crowley.

Sam glanced over, watched as the color drained from Crowley's face. The slight background of voices and car doors hadn’t stopped, only congealed. The building that hated Gadreel seemed farther away. 

"Sarah Blake?" Crowley asked softly. 

Sam caught sight of a child tugging at his mom's arm go to back inside, was unable to look away. The sun seemed to judge. The breeze quieted to a heated breath. Why was he waiting for Gadreel to do something? Why was he waiting for Sarah to come out? 

Sam reached out for Crowley's hand without looking, the same one he'd outstretched but Gadreel hadn't taken. Pulling Crowley toward the car without looking back at the matter-of-fact angel, without even looking at Crowley, he opened Crowley's door for him and expected him to get inside.

"Sarah's alive, and that's all that matters," he said to the stale air in the car. He ignored Crowley's questioning expression. "We're gonna finish our tour, together. And, yeah, we'll get married, or whatever. We'll do it without Lucifer's twisted definition of peace. Crowley?" Sam glanced over for a moment, but just a moment, and Crowley returned the look steadily.

"Sure thing, Moose." 

In the sigil-covered car, Crowley adjusted the radio dozens of times. He dodged static and fiddled with the volume. If the silence or the static caught them for too long, somehow it felt like they would have to stop running.

***

About a hundred songs later, one of their more morbid final tour stops rolled into sight: Sam’s mother's grave site. Sam knelt at the foot of the stone easily.

"Dad won't go see Mom in Heaven, even though he can now," he offered to a too-contemplative, shifty Crowley. "Why wouldn't he choose to go see her?"

"You said they had major-league issues. What's not to get?” His annoyance was clear. ”I know what you're trying to do. You want me to cheer up, keep my head in the game instead of on what I've done to you. Cause if I focus on it, you will too. And you can't."

Even though Sam had left without meeting Sarah, it had still happened. Lucifer had gotten to Crowley.

"Your dad won't go see her cause he's not brave like you. I liken his neglectful parenting to my own. 'Cept, I think I was worse, on the abusive end."

Sam briefly imagined living in the past with Crowley and calling him out for all the wrong he’d done to Gavin. He imagined trying to keep Crowley's son safe. He would have stood between them. He would have done anything to protect a boy who needed protecting, regardless of Crowley's feelings. Was he not being fair enough to Sarah, fair like he would for Gavin?

"I'm brave to you?" Sam asked, cautious.

"You don't run away from your problems. You come back and fix stuff. I know cause I've seen it." Sam heard footsteps approaching from behind Mary's gravestone. Crowley's survivalism colored his demeanor, his gaze, quick enough that Sam was caught staring. "Can we help you, miss?" It couldn't have been Sarah he was looking at. Sam saw no guilt.

"I'm looking for Sam Winchester?" The voice froze Sam solid.

"Came to the right place, then," the demon quipped.

Sam made to push himself up on shaking limbs, but he faltered, lamely gripping at blades of grass, staring with halting eyes as she stepped closer, coming into his line of sight.

He was going to lose it. Whatever 'it' was. Something important. Or...maybe not, now that she was here. She leaned over the top of the stone to greet him, reading the engraving upside-down with curiosity for a moment. "Your mom? You never told me about her."

Sam couldn't breathe. Or maybe he was breathing for the first time in years and it hurt to do it.

No, he couldn’t breathe.

***

Because he'd made a humiliating series of choices since she'd died because he'd become one of the things he hadn't even been able to tell her that he killed, Crowley's hand was comforting in Sam's, like a lifeline.

"Wait," she said from her spot kneeling on the grass too. "Slow down. If there are books about you, does that mean you're famous down here?"

"After I got you killed," Sam managed, pausing to squeeze the hand in case it disappeared somehow, "nothing's really...been safe. From me or for me. I’m about to end the world now, so...I’d say, infamous? More like universally despised." Tears prickled his eyes and throat. 

She gave his arm a quick squeeze, her warm support familiar. Kind of like...Crowley's. Sam glanced over at him before jerking his eyes away.

"Well, how are you holding up?" he asked her uncertainly. "How was Heaven?"

She gave him a look for changing the subject. "It was like a nice dream, at first. Then, it wasn't. This angel—Metatron?—was trying to get us to tell him all about the dark stuff in our lives, like the night of the fire. He was really persistent. But remembering the dark stuff made earthquakes happen, and they shook everything up. It was...actually really upsetting."

"I'm sorry," Sam blurted out again. "I'm sorry that happened. I'm sorry you were there at all."

Jess nodded. "I know," she said. "It's not your fault."

"No, it's not," Crowley agreed. "So, you're Jess?" He gave her a winning smile. "I like you. You're supportive." 

"I'm Sam's ex." She shook the hand he offered. "And, that'd make you...?"

"Sam's now," he said pleasantly. "Name's Crowley."

Her eyes darted to Sam, who suddenly looked scared, and then back to Crowley. "No," she said, her hand gripping Crowley's tighter, too tightly, like whatever the opposite of a lifeline was. "You killed Sarah Blake. You're not _with_ Sam."

"You know Sarah?" Sam asked in surprise. 

" _Do I know Sarah?_ Yeah, sure, Sam, that's the follow-up I was hoping for."

The sensation of pulsing at Sam's chest made him jump slightly. He reached into his shirt, tugging on the chain of the pendant. It was Gadreel's pulse pattern, definitely. Jess reached out for the pendant, taking it in her own hand. "What is this, a hunter thingy?"

"Tells us when angels are near," Crowley explained. "Gift from Satan." The glare she shot both of them made Crowley beam at her with a smile that didn’t reach the fear in his eyes.

Gadreel appeared, scouting the area briefly before settling his gaze on Crowley. "I heard your prayer," he announced to the group.

Crowley swallowed, glancing at Jess then at Gadreel, his two new enemies, apparently. " _My_ prayer?" He shared a confused look with Sam. "Look, buddy —"

"Mine." Jess let the pendant fall back against Sam's chest as she gestured to the angel. "He's a friend of mine."

"Don't zap out," Sam warned, raising a finger at Crowley, who scowled but dutifully stayed put. "We met him earlier," he told Jess. "Outside the museum. He knows Sarah too."

"We all know Sarah," Jess said coolly.

"So, what, is she still in Heaven?"

"Yes. But, if her murderer," she acknowledged Crowley, "deserves to be alive, she does too." 

"Jessica," Gadreel started.

"What's going on here?" a second angel with dark eyes said, appearing next to Gadreel with a flap of wings. "No negotiations, Gadreel."

"What the hell?" complained Crowley. "This is supposed to be a private party."

"Wait, are you Abner?" asked Sam.

Jess brushed herself off and rose to her feet, facing the angels. "If Sarah can't be alive, then I don't want to be either. You can find someone else." 

Sam swallowed at the thought of losing Jess again because of him.

"Abner will get Sarah, then, and we shall bring her to the wedding," Gadreel said.

"What wedding?" asked Jess, wondering what she was missing. "...You two?" she asked, gesturing between Abner and Gadreel. The angels stared at each other for a moment.

"Oh, you are fucking _kidding_ me," Jess said, realizing that, while the angels were apparently thinking about it after her comment, that isn't what they'd meant.

"We don't really do marriages in Heaven," Abner explained.

"Engaged. To Sarah's _killer_ ," said Jess. " _Classy_."

"They are on a farewell tour," Gadreel gestured to the gravestone. "Perhaps you should join them, if you have something to say."

"Oh, yep, to...graves, and to Graceland." She eyed Sam's t-shirt.

"Um. You're welcome to, Jess," Sam said, hesitant. "I'd... _like_ you to."

Crowley stared at Sam, raising a brow. "Really?"

"What?"

"If she kills me, I'm blaming you." His eyes were wide with surprise, but the fear was actually gone.

"Great. Good. Everyone blame me," Sam said.

***

"So," she said around disdainful bites of a Mickey-shaped pancake. "Why did he do it? Kill her, I mean. No, wait, strike that. Why do _any_ of them do it?"

Sam ran his fingers over the table. Briefly, he looked over at Crowley, who was standing in line, looking impatient. Abner and Gadreel were outside in the park somewhere, probably continuing to marvel at the plants and the architecture like they'd never seen plants or buildings before, which was...kind of cute, but ultimately distracting.

"Demons?" he asked. "Why do demons do it?" She nodded. "Chaos. Cruelty. Cause they're dicks."

Her glare was hot, flickering with indignation for just a moment before she focused on her food again. "And him?"

"Crowley...has principles a lot of 'em don't. We have a friend, Meg, who has principles too."

"Wait. The one who _possessed_ you?"

"Um. Yeah," Sam said. He paused. "Yeah," he repeated. Jess stared, a little sad for the first time since she'd found out about the engagement.

"God, Jess. I let go of keeping up with friends from Stanford for this reason. Okay, and because of legal issues. It's so hard to explain. I'm trying, though. Because I don't like hiding stuff from you, and I never did. And I was wrong to."

Jess's gaze softened. "Well," she said. "Go on, Sam. Please."

"Meg is my friend. But she did possess me, and it was awful. She killed hunters with my body, for revenge. I had nightmares for...ever. But...having nightmares wasn't exactly new, as you can remember."

She sighed, reaching out to touch his shoulder briefly. She did remember.

"Meg had faith in Lucifer, and then she lost faith in Lucifer, which," he paused. "Which, she has again, I guess. In between there, she fell for our friend Cas and started rethinking her life as a demon, and her motivations. She teamed up with us a few times, even sacrificing herself to save us. And she helps us out now, too. She's Lucifer's second in command. In...in a good way," he hesitated.

Jess took in a deep breath through her nose, then let it out. Sam gave her a moment.

"Meg has...principles," she said. Sam nodded. "And Crowley has principles." Sam nodded again, more cautiously. "What exactly does that mean?" Jess asked.

Sam needed a few minutes this time. He sipped his coffee and thought.

"Crowley likes fair fights," he explained. "Sort of."

"He's a demon," Jess pointed out.

"A businessman," said Sam. "He's a businessman." Sam paused, watching as Crowley took his food outside so they could finish talking in peace. "He likes manners. And...boundaries, I guess. When he uses leverage, which is...a lot...he usually tries to keep it to the scope of the situation at hand rather than play his advantage."

"You've dealt with him a lot, then. As an enemy?"

"Yeah. So...when I say he's not always upfront, or that sometimes he's a dick, I know exactly what I'm talking about. He's screwed us over before, and he's done some stuff I will never, ever forget. He kills and tortures—or, he used to. And there's no legal punishment for demons. But he prefers diplomacy and fine print. He's more like a used car salesman than a supervillain."

Jess quirked her lip.

"Now, as for why he did it." Sam took in a breath. "Nothing will _ever_ make killing Sarah or the others okay; I know that." After a moment of staring, Jess cut some more pancake and ate, avoiding Sam's gaze.

"Dean and I were trying to shut the gates of Hell," Sam continued. "Crowley was the king of it after we helped each other trap Lucifer, and he needed to stop us because that was his kingdom and those were his people. I don't agree with what he did. And I let him know that. We tied Crowley up after he killed her, and we forced him to sit through a demon cure. We didn't finish it, but Crowley's part demon, part human now, which means he's less powerful." 

"You think I care about how powerful he is?"

"Of course not," Sam replied quickly. He paused again.

"You are _screwing_ him. You're screwing a demon who killed someone you care about. How is it any different from Brady and what he did to me?" she asked, and there were tears in her eyes, and Sam swallowed.

She had always been able to throw him by her sheer conviction alone. Sam slumped forward then, resting his chin in his hands. It was a familiar gesture to Jess, one he'd used while studying, and it made him look young, young like she still was. 

"Jess," Sam said, ignoring the fact he'd slept with Brady, and with Ruby, trying to focus on the reasons Crowley wasn't them. "I won't compare the situations, because I don't think that's fair to you, or to Sarah. But, I'll compare the demons." 

"I'm listening," she admitted, starting on the final pancake for an excuse to look away from him. 

"You heard about Crowley and Meg. Brady did it for chaos and pain," he explained. "And, ultimately, to keep me on the path of my 'destiny' as a soldier for the demons. I was supposed to be some sort of...'Boy King of Hell' or 'Anti-Christ'," he rolled his eyes, ignored the hitch of Jess's breath. "When Crowley captured him for us, the demon told me I'd been a good friend to him after he'd started possessing Brady. But, he told me, he hadn't been here to make friends. He pretended to be trustworthy, to me, and to you too, and he tricked us. As a matter of strategy, like Crowley, but...he liked it."

Jess fiddled with her fork a little on the plate before putting her silverware down, and Sam read the gesture. 

"Does that sound about right?" he asked Jess, guessing that Brady had been damn clear with Jess about enjoying himself.

"I'm glad you killed him," Jess said fiercely, voice quiet.

Sensation grew in him from his listening ears to his brain and out to the rest of his body. His hands clenched into fists nice and slowly, so he felt every finger curl, and he felt ready to take Brady on again, even though that was impossible, and vengeful. And kind of overkill. 

"I need to get out of here and hit a few rides again," Jess said honestly. "This is...too much." She shoved her half a pancake at Sam in offering, and he took the heavy plate from her to try a bite.

"Sorry. I was trying not to overwhelm you."

"You never used to want to eat in public," Jess said suddenly.

Sam looked down at his hands, chewing silently. "That's true," he admitted after he swallowed. He'd been so weird about it at Stanford. He'd wanted to control everything, after finally finding freedom. He'd found loosening up really difficult, until Jess.

"Everyone in here's looking at you," Jess pointed out. Not that there were many people in the restaurant, but the number of patrons had been growing since he and Jess had sat down.

"Yeah. They do that. Lucifer went on TV the other day wearing my face. They all think my head's gonna spin around, or somethin'."

She kept eyeing them, and Sam swallowed the last of the pancake with a sip of coffee before, "Wanna leave? The park, I mean. It's totally okay."

"Leave Disneyland? No, I'm good. But..."

"But?"

"You think you could use that devil face to skip all the lines?" She raised a brow, and just looking at her was like living in two eras of his life at the same time.

"Jess," he said. "Anything I can mange to get you is yours. I swear."

***

The first time they went down the drop, the expression on Sam's face had been mildly surprised and he'd made a small sound Jess hadn't been able to hear, so his scream the second time was surprising. Crowley had screamed loudly both times, but Sam's voice had outdone him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, especially after seeing their photo. Sam looked completely freaked. "You were fine last time." She reached out and brushed his hair behind his ear with a little grin. He flinched slightly before glaring, and she let go, gave him his space.

"What's wrong?" she demanded.

"What was that?" Sam asked, turning back toward the ride. 

"Um." Jess gestured to the sign. "Splash Mountain. Sam?"

Sam's head shook like he was brushing off all manner of unpleasantness. "Lucifer. Remember me?"

Crowley cackled. The universe’s Devil himself had had the wits scared out of him by a child’s ride at Disneyland. The world was _too_ lovely sometimes. 

Lucifer snapped his fingers, and Crowley choked, clutched at his chest.

" _Whoa!_ Stop!" said Jess.

Lucifer let up slowly, and Crowley caught his breath.

"What the hell?!" Jess demanded. "You can't handle being _laughed_ at? You know you're the reason they're demons, right?"

Lucifer blinked at her. Who in the fuck did she think she was, this Jess, this ex of Sam’s so full of righteous indignation. Demons were demons. "So?" he finally asked.

"So, this is why you don't pop in unannounced!" Crowley said, laughing again, voice wheezy.

Lucifer frowned. "I'm Sam's friend too," he told Jess. "I keep him safe. And Crowley...is fine."

"Some friend," said Crowley. "Bribing him, peeping on him in bed. Bet he'd never ask you to be his best man."

"His what?"

“It’s like his wingman. You get to make a big speech to him and you’d have, you know, wedding duties.”

“Wedding?” his brow scrunched, and it highly satisfied Crowley.

"Sam and I are getting married," Crowley said simply. "We're doing it here, too."

In a flash of blinding white light that seemed to crackle with energy and cover the sky, Sam was Sam again. 

Jess and Crowley blinked to recover their sight, rubbing at their eyes, both scowling a little. 

"You two okay?" Sam asked. 

"Seriously, what the fuck," Jess groaned instead of providing an answer. "What the fuck is your life, Sam?"

Sam scuffed the toe of his boot a little nervously. It took him a minute to realize she wasn't aiming it at him, really.

She was mad on his behalf. "Jess?" he tried. 

"What?" she finally seemed to be blinking her way back into sight.

"Be my maid of honor?"

She narrowed her eyes at him with a purpose, stern and incapable of being influenced. It made his breath catch. She was so much more intense than his visions of her had let him remember. 

"I second that," said Crowley. "Clearly, honor is something you deserve. Ceremonially, and otherwise. You told Lucifer off, and I like that." 

"Shh," Jess said, still staring Sam down, figuring out how she should answer him. "I have a condition," she finally said, gently. 

"Never do anything for free that you can get your money's worth for," Crowley recited in praise. "Very good. What's this condition? You can consider it done."

***

Jess sighed at the rack of magnificent dresses. "I don't even know which one I should choose."

"We using the Devil's discount for this?" Crowley asked. "Cause I can pop home for more money, if need be."

"Don't look at me, whatever you do," Jess said seriously. "I died without pockets. Or a purse."

"No, it's on Lucifer," Sam said. "With everything I've gone through since saying 'yes'? Yeah, he can spot this one."

"It's not even _wrong_ , really. It's like Make a Wish. You've got a terminal case of the Lucifers."

"Is that like genital herpes?" Jess teased.

"Hey, didn't you have the clap once, Sam?" called Crowley

The dresses seemed to blend into one mass of color. Sam remembered saying yes. He remembered the house, and then the graveyard. He remembered the crunch of Dean's bones and the fury of Lucifer expanding inside of him, filling him up until he saw that poor, lonesome army man.

"Yeah, I did," he answered after slightly too long. He glanced over to find Jess's hand on his shoulder. "Nine-hundred-year-old witch," he explained.

"Ah, yeah, that's right," said Crowley.

Sam was relieved when Jess grasped an unfamiliar velvety green dress by the skirt and started asking Sam and Crowley about it. 

"Allow me," Crowley responded as Sam tilted his head this way and that, unable to put a princess to the dress. "Scotland is kind of my thing."


	30. Altruism ("getting married")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends the 30 Day OTP challenge. "Timeshare" is now the first part in a series.

Less than 24 hours after meeting Jess again, Sam sat on the abandoned couch with a creak and sighed as Crowley sipped stolen Craig with his eyes glued to a variety of sitcom characters, news anchors, talk show hosts, and commercials at the whim of the hand he had resting on the remote. Sam tried not to think of what Jess, Sarah, and Mary were doing as “fun”, but, well? They weren't stuck, at least. 

"You okay?" he called after a minute to the man whose face had haunted his nightmares, a man he'd never properly met before.

"Yeah?" came the uncertain answer from the open doorway to the bathroom. 

Crowley eyed Sam pointedly. "You best go deal with that."

Pushing himself up with a brief sigh, Sam padded over to the bathroom on socked feet and called the man's name.

Nick was hunched small and unintimidating on the closed toilet lid, running fingers through his hair. "I'm okay," he said, not for the first time since Lucifer had left him.  Sam watched him silently, then nodded. He wouldn't be fighting Nick on _anything_ if he could help it. 

"I'm okay," Nick said again with even less conviction. He reached for the faucet from where he sat in the small room, turning it on. 

He splashed water on his face with unsteady hands and let the water drip down without acknowledging the wetness seeping into his shirt. Sam watched the wetness spread, recognizing the shirt, becoming lost in thought.

Sam shut the door to the bathroom, leaving Nick on the other side, contained and safe. Invisible.

***

"It doesn't need to be a big deal," Sam kept explaining to the decoration people, to the cake people, even to Gadreel, who wasn't quite sure why they wanted an angel marrying them anyway.

"I figure you count as someone who works for God," Sam pointed out.

"I can’t say I trust him to be any fun," the girl who was fitting them for tuxes piped up. "This is Demonland. Now, more than ever. And you bring a ‘wingman’." She shook her head.

"Here?!" Sam glanced at Crowley for quick confirmation. "Really?"

"Oh yeah," Crowley said. "Ever since the inception, we’ve been running this place. Cushy job, too."

"I knew it!" Jess called. "I knew this place was Satanic!"

Sam remembered that, now that she said it. He’d been too busy getting excited about checking it out when they saved up some money. They hadn’t gotten to go by the time she died.

He fussed with his collar in the mirror as Jess explained why she chose Sleeping Beauty's dress. "I've been asleep for a long time, so it's just appropriate. Or, wait, am I more like Ariel, coming into a different world that I know so much about?" She was good at finding a balance between the harshness of reality and the importance of storytelling.

Sam stared at Sarah for way too long as she twirled in her new Snow White dress. Jess welcomed her so easily, displaying an obvious friendship and trust between them. Sarah talked about meeting her mother in Heaven. Sam's apology felt like razors in his gut, and like legal jargon he barely understood in his throat. 

Sarah teased him about proving her right: He did know what he wanted now. Well, maybe. Or maybe he wanted to get the hell away from the guilt he felt looking at the two even more than he wanted to get married. 

That said, handsome didn't even begin to describe the way Crowley looked when Sam walked toward him. Warm was a word, maybe, like Sarah, her voice and her gaze and the gentle way she put her hand on his arm to reassure him. Crowley looked like solace in a tux. Sam remembered the hits Crowley had taken for him during their time at Lucifer Headquarters, the trust in each other they'd never been able to purge completely, leading to this unexpected payoff. 

"Sam," Crowley said when it was time to. "Sam, you are the most true and pure person I've ever met. You're also the strongest, because you have outlived loss and horror even I can't imagine and you still bleed hope and compassion. I want to be your counterpart, your cohort. I want to be, basically, your mutual hero. And I'm not prone to that. But you inspire me. Your blood literally pumps through me, through my heart. You've changed me for the better. And, for you, I intend to stay that way."

"Crowley," Sam told him back in reply. "We know the worst parts of each other's lives. We've seen each other's shortcomings, dealt with each other as opponents. We've disappointed each other. And we've lived through oppression side by side. I've seen your altruism and your loyalty, and, most importantly to me, your honesty. You know who you are, and you own it. I believe in you like you believe in me. I've seen you change, and I've seen me change too. I'm not gonna run. I'm going to stick by your side, because we make a damn good team. I love you. Despite everything."

There was a sound, a slight, chattering buzz. Sam looked up. The chandelier was starting to shake. Lights flickered. 

"Seriously?" Sam asked the world. 

***

Dean was comfortable with the line between human and monster. He was not comfortable with the fact that humans often strayed too close to the line.

In Michael's reflecting pool, humans were glaring at each other, charging at each other, taking each other's lives. They were locking each other up, tying, beating,  _hacking_  each other up, screwing with each other psychologically. It was history's Best Of for assholes.

"This is the problem with humans," Michael murmured.

"What? Everything?" Dean complained. 

***

"Sam?" Gadreel asked, confused on the other end of the phone call.

Sam's cheeks flushed with embarrassment only Crowley could see. "I just...wanted to check up on...her?" There were three hers, but he meant one of them, and he had a hard time saying her name, in case it wasn’t real.

He missed her already.

A slightly annoyed huff, then something in the voice changed and it was  _her_ again. "Hi, baby," she said. Easily. Openly.

Sam swallowed. "Sorry," he said. But he'd never been less sorry. "I needed to call," he admitted. He didn't elaborate.

"We're still scouting," she explained after a moment of waiting for him to finish, realizing he wouldn't. "Are you and Crowley okay?"

"Yes." He paused. "I love you. I love you so much, Mom."

She wasn't annoyed when she responded. She wasn't impatient or thinking, "This isn't the time," or  _anything_. "I love you too," she said. There were tears in her voice.

She was perfect. John and Dean said that about her a lot, but Sam was pretty sure they were just saying it. Because she actually was, but it was the kind of perfect that didn't  _lead_ to revenge.

"I want you to help with Nick," he blurted out.

"Uh. I'll try," she promised, slightly confused.

"I love you," Sam said again, then hung up. He glanced over at Crowley, who pushed the chicken closer. 

"Stop interrupting. Taylor Swift's about to be on."

"These are all reruns. All that ever  _plays_ is reruns."

"Eat your junk food, whiner," Crowley said.

***

"No. The trouble with you is you all know how to take a precious thing and scratch away at it, degrade it. You try to make every good thing your own, until it's gone."

"Easy there, Captain Planet," Dean scoffed, a tinge of fear lining the place where he and Michael met, and Michael could  _feel_  it.

Michael continued to show Dean image after image, scene after scene, until Dean finally cried "uncle".

***

Sam, fingers covered in disgusting barbecue sauce, was pushing Crowley's hand away. 

"No, I had enough," he snorted from his position half-under Crowley, who pressed the advantage even more.

"I'm gonna fatten you up just for the hell of it," he teased. "Nothing else going on."

"My mom'll kick your ass," Sam teased. "No, I really don't want it. Oh,  _ew!_ " Crowley slathered some of the sauce in Sam's hair before sticking the thing back in the empty box. 

Despite his shock and despite the smell, Sam was giggling hard, the arm of his cleaner hand wrapped around his new husband. He was giggling so hard it took him a minute to understand that his Crowley, though still looking deeply into Sam's eyes, was addressing _that Nick_. "How's it goin'?" he called.

Sam went cold and pushed at Crowley. Crowley respected the gesture, gently sitting up. 

"Shower for one, my love?" Crowley asked.

Sam swallowed. "Yeah." It would have been for two, but now there were three in the room, and all Sam could think about was the guy who'd brought them there just to leave them.

"I mean," he added, "you could still wash my hair, considering you're an asshole, but."

Crowley raised a brow. "Okay. Non-sexy petting it is. 'Scuse us, Nick. Remote's all yours, and we saved some pizza."

Sam let Crowley join their sticky hands and lead him to the shower down the hall with only one glance spared for Nick, in which he fixated upon the shapes and colors of those shirts. 

***

"You're ready now," Michael said. 

Dean didn't like that he agreed with that assessment. Ready was never good when angels were involved. "Your dad was ready. To leave you because you're such a disappointment," he said, hopeful for at least a little payback. 

Michael felt calm, too calm, at the place where they met. 

"I know," he said.

And Dean didn't find that very satisfying at all.


	31. After Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A final, 31st chapter of “Timeshare” to fill in the blanks I hadn’t felt ready to fill in yet.
> 
> Crowley helps Sam wash his hair.

There was something about the white noise of the water, something about the closed space he didn’t have many bad memories associated with in general that made taking a shower feel comforting while making him all-too thoughtful.

Crowley pushed at the material around his hips with deft fingers. “Come on,” he coaxed, already naked himself. Sam was stalling without realizing he was stalling. 

“Sorry,” Sam laughed, the sound far away. Crowley leaned forward to get a good look at his face, gave him a brief squeeze, deciding on an approach.  


“We haven’t been this close since we huddled together in the underground passageway,” he murmured against the back of Sam’s shoulder, his voice seductive, a fact which made Sam’s brow furrow.   


“Are you flirting with me right now?”  


“Oh, we’re newlyweds. I’m entitled.” Crowley kissed at his shoulder, offering a bit of a bite Sam groaned to, in annoyance and not arousal, as Sam finally sighed and shucked his underwear.   


“Alright,” Sam said, reaching his hand out to test the temperature of the water. “It’s okay,” he told Crowley. “We can get in.”  


“Splendid.”  


Sam stepped into the flow of the water, the small shampoo and conditioner bottles in one large hand. 

“How are you faring? Don’t answer yet; just think on it.” Crowley stood behind Sam, who was under the flow of the water. He took the shampoo bottle from Sam’s hand, making sure Sam’s hair was nice and wet.

“We’re, like, the last people to get married at Disneyland,” Sam said.

“Yes,” agreed Crowley.

 “If we hadn’t gone to Disneyland...it would still be....”  


Crowley started massaging the shampoo into Sam’s scalp and along his hair, getting a soft groan from him that actually showed appreciation and comfort. Good. “Maybe,” Crowley said, his tone basically a shrug. “I’m still glad we did it, though.”

“How can you be?!” Sam shouted, tensing. “Don’t even say that.”  


Crowley just kept up the soothing motions on Sam’s head and hair. “I like having a husband. Do I like the fact we broke one of America’s biggest attractions for humans and demons alike?” He paused. “Kind of. I mean, it was a bit poetic.”

“Crowley,” Sam said, his voice cold as his hair was played with, as he stood with the warm water softly hitting his chest. “People died. Humans and demons. Snuffed out by angels. It’s not funny.”  


Crowley sighed. He switched out the shampoo for conditioner. “Well,” he said gently, “I didn’t say funny.”  


“I said ‘I do’ underneath a theme park while angels and demons fought overhead. It was like an earthquake.”  


“It’s California, love. It _was_  an earthquake. But, look. We don’t control Michael’s army.”

“If we got married in a field, the only thing that would be dead? Would be some grass and some trees.”  


Crowley dropped the bottle to the ground uncaringly, wrapping his arms around Sam from behind. “You’re right, Moose. This is horrible.”

Sam let the sound of the water relax him a little as he turned his hair back to the spray of it. Crowley kept contact between them, reaching for the small bar of paper-covered soap with a free hand. 

“Your mum’s here, though. These friends of yours, always demanding someone else gets to live if they do. What’s that all about?” Mary had gotten to witness her son being married because Sarah refused to come to earth unless she could surprise Sam at the wedding. Sarah and Mary had gotten to know each other after the walls in Heaven came down.

Sam relaxed back into Crowley. “Hold me a little more,” he grumbled. Crowley rushed to comply. “I guess I choose well, huh? You’re turning altruistic too, you know.”   


“Yeah, I guess you could say I’d like to do a little something for you,” Crowley said, voice in full seduction mode. His hands found Sam’s hips, gripping them.   


Sam shook his head, not bothering to pull away, since Crowley would get the hint. “Not what I meant, and you know that.” The grief hadn’t hit him the way he knew it would just yet, but it was coming for him, and he’d be here when it found him, waiting.

Crowley lifted his arms back up to resume their hug, holding Sam like he wanted to be held. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I could sure use the distraction, is all. Not looking forward to being with Mum, Jess, and...Sarah.” He now had to live with a reminder of one of the cruelest murders he’d ever committed. 

Sam understood that Crowley was nervous to be around Sarah, but didn’t have much room for that in his mind. He had to live with a guy whose body had been used to relentlessly torture him. He had to live with the death of people, again, who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, that place being in proximity to him.

The water helped them both, but only to an extent. The touch helped maybe just a little more. Sam did turn to give a brief kiss to Crowley, reaching to hold him in turn. He wouldn’t ask for it most of the time, but he needed that affection too, as Sam well remembered from their time at Lucifer’s Headquarters while Lucifer was still torturing him. And neither of them knew yet about their next surprise guest, possibly even more viscerally upsetting than Nick's body, and infinitely more annoying.

“I’ll see if we can repair it,” Crowley sighed against Sam’s chest. "It is, after all, a Hellstorical monument."  



End file.
